


The Apples Fall Far

by BlackCanine



Series: The Apples Fall Far [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Harry Potter Next Generation, M/M, Ravenclaw Rose Weasley, Slytherin Albus Severus Potter, Slytherin Louis Weasley, Slytherin Scorpius Malfoy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-09 17:39:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 90,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5549447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackCanine/pseuds/BlackCanine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Albus Potter is a competitive jock; Scorpius Malfoy is an overachiever bookworm. That alone and their last names would make anyone assume the two boys couldn't be more different from each other, and they’d be wrong.</p><p>Turns out they've got a lot more in common than the Slytherin colours they share. They’re both the spitting images of their father’s, for one, and they both desperately want to be known as something other than that.</p><p>The story of how Albus and Scorpius met on their first year at Hogwarts and how they revolutionize the wizarding world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Owl and Ferret

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own the _Harry Potter_ saga or any of its characters. There is no profit gained from writing or publishing this story.
> 
> Disclaimer about the images: all edits were done with pictures found in Google, none of them belong to me.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Albus is eleven years old, he makes a friend on the train to Hogwarts, and it isn’t exactly one his father would have picked for him.

The first thing Albus Severus Potter does after giving his first steps when he is one year old is trying to run with them. He falls, of course, and is promptly helped back on his feet by his mother, so he can try taking one more step or two. Which he does, only to fall again after trying to move too quickly.

It comes as a surprise to absolutely no one that the second he hops on his first toy broomstick he tries to reach the height professional Quidditch players did at the games his father took him to, which is why his father is ready to cast a Hover Charm when Albus pushes the toy past its limits.

When Albus is five years old, his parents enroll him at a muggle primary school in Devon, where he goes along with his cousin Rose, since both his father and his aunt Hermione agreed it was important for their kids to both benefit from the early life socialisation home-schooling didn’t provide and to have at least some kind of contact with the muggle world.

Albus is disappointed at first when he finds they don’t play Quidditch at his new school, but he quickly forgets when he’s introduced to football. It’s not long before little Albus is running around chasing a ball and his parents are summoned so his teacher can explain how they’ve got an extraordinarily competitive son. His older brother James never got the appeal, and was usually frustrated when he found Albus kicking his toy Quaffles around and trying to shoot them through a makeshift goal made with rocks at their backyard. Still, Albus never quite drops his devotion for all things Quidditch.

Shortly after his eight birthday Albus gets to see his Quidditch idol, Brazilian Gonçalo Flores, at the 427th Quidditch World Cup, for whom he cheers loudly, despite his family’s affiliation to Bulgarian’s national selection. You could tell apart his room from this sibling’s simply from the green that covered each and every one of the walls, all of which showcased a poster of the renowned Chaser.

By the time he’s eleven, he can run faster than even his older brother when he’s on the ground and he can fly higher than his father at his age when he’s airborne, closely supervised by one or both of his Quidditch celebrity parents.

When James leaves for Hogwarts, Albus is devastated. Since they were very little the two of them had been partners in crime. They both had a knack for troublemaking, amplified by Albus competitive nature and James’ proclivity to show off. The two-year gap between them did little to keep them apart and their father wasn’t kidding when he told them they were only rooming together when he wanted his house remodelled. So James leaves and Albus only comfort as he waits patiently for his eleventh birthday is throwing a Quaffle around when at home and kicking a football when at school.

There is no doubt on Harry Potter’s mind as the train at platform nine and three-quarters takes his middle child away to begin his Hogwarts education that Albus Severus Potter will be called for his House’s Quidditch team when he starts his second year.

He could not have been more wrong.

 

“Is this seat taken?” Albus asks when he finds a compartment that isn’t completely crowded or occupied by a member of his family. He decided weeks prior to his first day at Hogwarts that it would be good for him to make friends outside the Potter-Weasley-Granger clan. The boy he addresses his question to is pale with platinum blond hair and silver intelligent eyes, lean without being skinny and with the posture that comes from a high class upbringing. Beside him, the kid has a large birdcage where an alert eagle owl is perched, mimicking the same proud posture as his owner.

“Be my guest,” the boy says as he motions Albus to sit opposite to him, which the boy does after placing his luggage on the case above the seat and depositing his pet ferret next to him.

“Interesting choice of a pet,” the blond boy comments.

“It’s more like he chose me, he followed me home,” Albus explains, “I was visiting my granddad last year and the little guy found me when I was strolling though the woods near his place.”

“And you chose to keep it? That can’t possibly be safe.”

“We took him to a Medivet at Magical Menagerie in Diagon Alley and he made sure to give him all his vaccines and make sure he was healthy. He turned out to be merely months old, so it seems like he got lost or separated from his family, so I begged dad to let me take him in; he said as long as I understood I am responsible for him I could, and I did so I got to keep Scout.”

“Scout?”

“That’s his name, because he was exploring the woods all on his own, though he was probably just lost and scared out of his mind.”

“Well, at least you got an ice-breaker story for meeting people here,” the boy points out.

“That’s what my dad said!” Albus agrees. “How about you? What’s your owl called?” he asks pointing at the large bird inside the cage.

“Hunter. He’s an eagle owl, because that’s the tradition in my family, and he gets his name because he’s always chasing after other animals and stuff. I’ve even seen him catching a garden gnome once. Not that we have those at home,” the kid explains. Albus notes how the other boy refers to his owl as a “he” instead of an “it”, just like he does and he likes that, he hates when pet owners talk about their pets like they’re things.

“Everyone in your family gets an eagle owl for their first year at Hogwarts?”

“I’ve had mine for a year now, dad wanted me to learn to take care of him before I came here, but yes, my dad had one and so did my grandfather and so on.”

“Cool. And cool name too.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m Albus Potter, by the way,” Albus says to the other boy, who raises a sceptical eyebrow.

“Scorpius Malfoy,” he deadpans.

“Oh,” Albus frowns, recognising the last name immediately, as well as the cause of the irony in his new acquaintance’s tone. He wasn’t really paying attention when his uncle Ron was scolded for pitting his cousin Rose against Draco Malfoy’s son before they even met each other, so he had no idea how Scorpius Malfoy actually looked like.

“I know.”

Awkward silence befalls the two boys, neither of them knowing what to say or where to look, so Scorpius turns to the window and Albus becomes very interested in his ferret’s current state, who’s currently lying on his lap without a care for the tension between the boys. After a while Albus decides nothing could be more uncomfortable than that charged silence so he speaks again.

“I knew … well, my dad might have mentioned you coming to Hogwarts this year.” Apparently, something could be worse.

“So did mine,” Scorpius agrees.

“Is it weird that our families are expecting us to start the Third Wizarding War if we run into each other?”

“It’s ridiculous if you ask me. Two teenagers apparently couldn’t stand each other in school, two decades later their kids go to school and it’s suddenly a big deal. I don’t know about your dad, but mine doesn’t really talk about yours.”

“Yeah, mine doesn’t either. It’s like whatever rivalry they had is mentioned from time to time in the media, or in the books about the War, but, yeah, you’re right, it’s absurd they just assume our last names would make anyone carrying them natural enemies like cats and dogs. I mean, I didn’t see you and automatically want to pounce you or something”

“Neither did I,” Scorpius concedes.

“So no cats and dogs then?”

“More like owl and ferret.”

“Sound good to me,” Albus smiles. “Hey, do you like Quidditch?”

The number one wizarding sport becomes the main topic of conversation during their first trip to Hogwarts. Turns out they’re both avid Quidditch fans, though Scorpius favours Japan’s National Team rather than Brazil’s as Albus does, and if he were to pick a position, he’d prefer Keeper over Chaser. When it comes to the National League, Scorpius supports Puddlemere United while Albus is a big Ballycastle Bats fan. By the time the old lady pushing the Honeydukes Express strolls by, both boys are immersed in a heated discussion over the latest League final, which was disputed between both teams, again.

The subject of their parents, however, is not that easy to avoid.

“I got Minverva McGonagall, what’s yours?” Albus asks eagerly when he looks at his Chocolate Frog Card, but Scorpius’s gone quiet and awkward again.

“I — hum, I got your dad,” he says as he shows Albus the image of his father flashing what his family’s come to call his “ _Daily Prophet_ smile” from the card.

“Oh,” Albus mutters, “hum, I get it if you don’t want to keep it”, he offers and Scorpius looks down at his card, lost in thought for a moment before he barks a laugh.

“Man, this is ridiculous.”

“I know,” Albus agrees before tossing a second Chocolate Frog to Scorpius, who catches it effortlessly, then he picks one for him and unwraps it.

“Let’s try again. I got …” his face falls, “my dad.”

They both stare at each other in silence for two seconds before bursting into laughter, Albus throwing his head back so abruptly Scout angrily leaps from the back of his neck where he had taken residence for the previous half an hour.

 

The boat ride to the castle after the Express drops them off is uneventful, though Albus does manage to catch a puzzled look coming from his brother as he makes his way to the carriages for the older boys. Everyone not a first-year is already at the Great Hall when Albus and Scorpius’ class is told to line up in an orderly fashion so they can begin with the Sorting Ceremony.

Albus hadn’t given much thought to the Sorting Ceremony during his ride on the Hogwarts Express, immersed as he was in his Quidditch discussion with Scorpius, but as he marches inside the Great Hall, all he can think about is the conversation he had with his father right before he boarded the train.

Would he be a Gryffindor like practically every single Potter and Weasley in his family? Would James mind if he wasn’t? Is Slytherin as bad as his mom’s side of the family declares? Would the Hat take into consideration his fears? And what about Scorpius? He doesn’t really want to lose the first friend he’s made at school that wasn’t related to him.

The voice of Headmistress McGonagall announcing the first student to be sorted only intensifies his nervousness. It’s time.

“Abercrombie, Jackson!” McGonagall calls and a tall handsome looking kid at the front of the line makes his way to the stool placed between the staff and the Houses tables and sits so the Headmistress can put the dusty pointy hat on his head. It’s a few seconds later, during which Albus wondered what kind of thought process the Hat goes through to reach its decision (he wasn’t really paying attention, but he figures a hat that can sing a song must have some kind of brain), that Jackson Abercrombie becomes the first student from the 2017-2024 class to be sorted.

“Gryffindor!” the Hat roars and Albus can see James and their cousins Molly, Fred, Lucy and Roxanne clapping and cheering loudly from the red and gold decorated table, which becomes Jackson’s destination after he leaves the stool.

“Bones, Amanda!” McGonagall calls.

“Hufflepuff!”

“Branstone, Charles!”

“Gryffindor!”

“Bostock, Horace!”

“Hufflepuff!”

Sometimes the Hat announces the House as soon as it touches the kid’s head, Albus notes.

“Caruso, Jane!”

“Gryffindor!”

“Caxton, Cassandra!”

“Slytherin!”

“Claverdon, Liam!”

“Ravenclaw!”

Some others, the Hat takes its sweet time making a decision.

“Cornfoot, Damien!”

“Hufflepuff!”

“Dunbar, Andrew!”

“Slytherin!”

“Fladbury, Brittany!”

“Ravenclaw!”

On such occasions, Albus can even see some of his classmates’ lips moving in silence, like they’re having a conversation with the Hat. He sure hopes that doesn’t happen to him.

“Gifford, Arianna!”

“Gryffindor!”

“Goldstein, Olivia!”

“Slytherin!”

“Harper, Alexandra!”

“Ravenclaw!”

He wonders if there’s some specific quota per House the Hat must meet or if a House can receive significantly more students than the rest.

“Holmwood, Ferdinand!”

“Gryffindor!”

“Hopkins, Larissa!”

“Hufflepuff!”

“Johnson, Dylan!”

“Ravenclaw!”

At the staff table, Albus can see some of the teachers are wearing a badge with the emblem of a specific House. He assumes they’re the Head of Houses. Gryffindor’s is family friend Neville Longbottom, Slytherin’s is handsome and has green eyes and dirty blond hair, Ravenclaw’s looks incredibly short and his hair is snowy white, and Hufflepuff’s is stout-looking with blondish hair. They all clap politely after every sorting, but their enthusiasm is clear when a kid is called to their House.

“Kettletoft, Jeremy!”

“Hufflepuff!”

“Langdon, Tyler!”

“Gryffindor!”

“Lofthouse, Nathaniel!”

“Slytherin!”

Considerably ahead of him, Albus can see Scorpius’ turn is almost up.

“MacDougal, Gregory!”

“Ravenclaw!”

“Macmillan, Lindsay!”

“Slytherin!”

“Malfoy, Scorpius!”

Albus can hear his own pulse pounding on his ears as his newly made friend walks over to the stool and sits down. Not an instant later comes the Hat’s answer, to absolutely no one’s surprise, Albus figures.

“Slytherin!”

Claps from the second table to the right welcome the youngest Malfoy into their fold and Albus moves his sight two tables to the left, where his older brother is looking at him with an unreadable expression.

“O’Deluga, Lorelai!”

“Ravenclaw!”

“Peakes, Julian!”

“Hufflepuff!”

“Pembrock, Tamara!”

“Slytherin!”

They’ve started with the P’s, which means it won’t be long before it’s Albus turn. He counts ahead of him and realises there are only two kids left before him.

“Pritchard, Mason!”

“Gryffindor!”

“Portchester, Johanna!”

“Hufflepuff!”

“Potter, Albus!”

This is it, he thinks, time to have his brains picked by an ancient piece of headwear. He walks over to the stool and sits and the Headmistress places the Sorting Hat on him.

 _My, my, a little terrified, are we?_ A voice that sounds like it’s coming from between his ears asks.

 _I’m not afraid_ , Albus thinks, though he can’t believe his own lie, much less the Hat, he suspects.

_Yes, you are, but worry not, for being brave is not about not feeling fear, but about feeling it and conquering it._

_I’m conquering it_ , Albus thinks, still not sounding convincing enough to himself.

_I feel like I’ve had this conversation before._

_My father said you let him choose._

_Ah, yes, yes, I did. And what would you choose?_

_I don’t know. I don’t want to be in the wrong House._

_You won’t be, trust me. Though there is no such thing as a wrong House, you know? Didn’t you pay attention to my song?_

_I — I’m sorry, my mind was kind of somewhere else._

_I see … If you don’t know, why don’t you let me decide then?_

_A — alright._

_Very well. I see … a troublemaker, which runs in the family, don’t think I forget. I never know what to do with troublemakers, since rule-breaking requires guts but also ambition. So what is it then? Guts or ambition? I see plenty of both in you._

The Hat goes silent for a moment, long enough to make Albus worry.

_Are you still there?_

_Oh, yes, yes, I’m here. I think … I think you’d be best suited in …_ “Slytherin!” the Hat roars at last to the crowd.

The reaction is not like the one the rest of his classmates got. For one, Albus is sure he can hear Headmistress McGonagall gasp. Then there’s the fact that the cheers over at the Slytherin table are both enthusiastic and surprised, which somehow makes them sound not as strong. And of course, there’s the fact that the entire Gryffindor table’s gone completely silent and he can see his brother’s mouth slack open like he can’t believe what he just witnessed, and by the looks of it, neither can his cousins. And to be honest, neither can Albus.

He can barely hear the next name on the list being called as he walks from the stool to the green and silver table, where Scorpius makes sure to make a seat for him at his side. Some older boys congratulate him and clap him on the shoulder, they all look genuinely happy to have him there, but none of them can hide their astonishment at having one of the Potter heirs with them at the Slytherin table.

It takes a while for another Slytherin to join them. Sebastian Queensbury is sorted in Ravenclaw; Katerina Reynolds, Hufflepuff; Sabrina Samuels, Ravenclaw; Jonathan Smith, Hufflepuff; Roderick Swann, Ravenclaw; Caroline Tate, Gryffindor; Natalia Thrussington, Gryffindor. Albus is starting to think he was the last Slytherin to be sorted, which does nothing to take the spotlight off of him both at his table and at Gryffindor’s, where his brother is still unable to tear his eyes away. Finally, Stephania Vane is called to the stool.

“Slytherin!” And Albus lets out a sigh of relief. His housemates promptly give the girl a warm welcome and all eyes are no longer on Albus. Next to him, Scorpius looks at him like he can tell exactly how he’s feeling, like he gets it.

“Warmsley, Diana!”

“Gryffindor!”

Albus watches Diana Warmsley walk over to where his brother Is sitting, but, unlike his fellow Slytherins, James can’t be bothered to acknowledge his new housemate, he’s to busy staring at Albus.

“Weasley-Granger, Rose!” Finally, another family member. That seems to turn James’ attention back to the Ceremony.

“Ravenclaw!” No surprise there. His cousins Victoire and Dominique, born to his aunt Fleur and his uncle Bill, were the first Weasleys ever to be sorted out of Gryffindor, both of them being in Ravenclaw, and everyone knew his cousin Rose would be the third eagle in the family, even though his uncle Ron hoped she would be a Gryffindor, seeing as her mother was brilliant but still got into the so-called brawny House. Still, the response to her sorting is entirely different than the one Albus received, given James and his cousins aren’t looking at Rose like she’s a freak.

“Weasley, Louis!” It’s turn for the youngest of Bill and Fleur’s kids to get sorted, and presumably to become the fourth ever Weasley in the blue and bronze House. Apparently, the Delacour family is one of intellectuals and scholars. The redheaded boy walks up to the stool and waits for his answer, the Sorting Hat placed firmly on his shiny hair. Surely due to the combination of Weasley genes and his mother’s veela heritage, Louis’ slick hair has a mesmerising metallic quality to it, that can either look pink, bright red or even deep burgundy, depending on the light, which makes a sharp contrast with his freckled milky white skin.

“Slytherin!” The Hat roars and the reaction is mostly the same as the one Albus got: taken aback cousins, now both at Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, a shocked out of his mind James and surprised but enthusiastic Slytherins. Louis walks over to his assigned table and Albus moves to make room for him to his right.

“Is he your cousin?” Scorpius asks from his left side.

“Yeah, he’s the son of my uncle Bill,” Albus answers as Louis is welcomed to their table and the final student from their class is sorted.

“Zeller, Veronica!”

“Hufflepuff!”

 

After dinner, Albus and the rest of the Slytherins are told to form a line so the prefects can conduct them to their House common room. Not far from the Great Hall they take a flight of stairs that leads them to what looks like the basement of the castle.

“Are we really going to the dungeons?” Albus asks Scorpius, pictures of dark underground cells coming to his mind.

“Relax, my father says it’s one of the most elegant rooms in Hogwarts,” Scorpius waves him off, Louis not missing a word closely behind.

Turns out, Scorpius was right. After being taught the password ( _In omnia paratus_ , which they’re told changes every fortnight), Albus walks into one of the most luxurious and tasteful pieces of architecture he’s had the pleasure of stepping into. The room is wide with lots of space and the ceilings are high as a cathedral. Albus can see the top windows are actually below the Great Lake, which gives the place a bluish green tinge. The sofas are all expensive leather and there are fine ebony cupboards on the walls.

“It’s beautiful!” Albus exclaims out of breath and Louis nods his agreement.

“Told you,” Scorpius replies smugly.

First graders are retold the rules (no one out after ten o’clock, save for Astronomy class, Forbidden Forest is _forbidden_ , lights out at eleven) and shown to their dormitories. Their quarters are as elegant as the common room, with five huge four-poster beds with both light green translucent hangings and heavy dark green curtains to block the light. Three of the walls are made of stone but one of them is a large window that gives to the Lake, making Albus realise with exhilaration that he’ll be living practically underwater, which he finds incredible.

Albus, Scorpius and Louis will share the room with two other boys: Andrew Dunbar and Nathaniel Lofthouse. They all go through multiple rounds rock-paper-scissors and coin tosses to pick the beds and Albus and Scorpius end up taking the nearest ones to the glass window, which were admittedly the two most coveted ones.

That first night Albus takes a long while to fall asleep, replaying the events of the day in his mind, from the anxious last moment preparations before leaving his home to his first encounter with Scorpius Malfoy to the intense first dinner at the castle. He still can’t forget how utterly shocked his brother James looked as he barely paid attention to his housemates introducing him to the Bloody Baron. They both had always been too close and the thought of him being sorted in Slytherin causing a rift between them makes his throat constrict and his eyes burn. He doesn’t know if he can take it.

 

Next morning it’s Saturday so students have no class to worry about for two days. Albus follows his new housemates out of the common room (and wow, does the morning light filtered through the Lake makes it look beautiful) and heads to the Great Hall for breakfast.

Albus makes a quick stop by one of the bathrooms before going in, so he’s alone when his brother finds him in a deserted hallway.

“Hey, Albus,” he greets him cautiously but amicably.

“Hey, James,” Albus replies shyly before casting his eyes down.

“I’m glad I caught you before breakfast,” James says, nervous all of a sudden, “listen, I wanted to apologise.” Albus’ eyes jump up to meet James’ at this, wide and wondering.

“I wrote to mum and dad last night, told them about you being sorted in Slytherin and how I didn’t react as well as I should have. I mean, I know I teased you a lot about this but I knew my reaction wasn’t the best.”

“You think?” Albus asks sarcastically, James just snorts and keeps on talking.

“I got an owl from dad this morning. He must have promised his owl quite a treat if I got his message before breakfast because the little guy flew fast. Anyways, he told me not to be a git and get over myself. He also told me about how he named you after a very brave Slytherin he admired a lot and how he had been this close to be sorted in Slytherin himself but the Hat —”

“The Hat let him choose,” Albus finishes for him, “yeah, dad told me before I got on the train. He told me I could tell the Hat where I wanted to be.”

“And did you?” James asks curiously, no hint of reproach in his voice, just genuine curiosity.

“I was about to, but I feared I’d pick the wrong House, so I asked him to decide.”

“It took him a while,” James points out.

“He said I was a troublemaker,” James snorts, the _you think?_ going unspoken, “and he never knew what to do with troublemakers, ‘cause they we’re both brave and ambitious. He chose Slytherin in the end.”

“That … actually makes sense,” James concedes.

“So you’re not mad?” Albus asks, insecurity clear in his voice.

“No, I’m not mad, I should be the one asking you that. I was being a prat and I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, James, I know it must’ve been a shock to the whole family.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” James laughs.

“So we’re okay?”

“We’re okay, though I gotta admit, I’m kinda gonna miss my partner in crime. It’s quite a dynamic duo we would’ve made.”

“I was bummed about that at first too, but then I thought: with you in Gryffindor and me in Slytherin, we can prank hard from both fronts! Think about it. And with Rose in Ravenclaw, all we have to do is find ourselves a Hufflepuff and Hogwarts will never know what hit it! Though I doubt Rose will go for any kind of troublemaking, she takes after her mom.” At that, James burst out laughing.

“Man, I can’t believe I was ever surprised. You definitely are a Slytherin.”

“And don’t you forget it,” Albus replies smugly, feeling for the first time the pride of belonging to the House he was sorted in. James laughs again and gives his brother a one-arm hug.

“Come on, let’s get you to breakfast. You’ve got two days to explore the school so you don’t get lost on your first day of classes. Don’t think I’ll be lending you dad’s map when you’re running around in circles,” he says as he walks with Albus to the Great Hall, his arm still around Albus’ shoulders.

“I’ll have this place mapped out in my head by the end of the week, I don’t need your stupid map.” James chuckles.

“Slytherin,” they both declare at the same time and walk through the Great Hall doors laughing.

 

Monday morning marks the start of Albus and his classmates’ education at Hogwarts. First-year Slytherins are welcomed with first period Transfiguration, one of the hardest classes they’ll take, or so they’re told, which makes Scorpius mumble something about it being a _terrific_ idea to stick it first thing Monday morning. The class is in charge of the Head of Hufflepuff House, Ernie Macmillan, much to his daughter’s Lyndsay’s embarrassment. After the mandatory round of introductions, Professor Macmillan makes them go through half of the first chapter of _Magical Theory_ and promises (threatens, Scorpius says) they’ll be doing their first transfigurations by the end of the week.

Albus and Scorpius are almost at the door when Professor Macmillan’s voice stops them in their tracks.

“You look just like him,” he says, “your father. I really admired him a great deal when we were students, a real leader.” As he speaks, his gaze shifts from Albus to Scorpius and can’t hide the fact that he’s taken aback by what he sees.

“You look just like yours as well,” he comments.

Albus never knows how to respond when someone compares him to his dad. On one hand, he feels insanely proud, not only because he knows what Harry Potter represents to the wizarding world, but also because he too admires his father. On the other hand, it always feels like there’s this unspoken expectation that he should turn out to be just like him, and those are some pretty big shoes to fill. From the expression on Scorpion’s face, it looks like his new friend doesn’t feel much differently.

In the end, Albus does what he always does: he thanks politely and flashes a perfect imitation of his dad’s _Daily Prophet_ smile (hey, if they want him to be just like his dad, he can do just that) and leaves the classroom along with Scorpius.

Next they have Charms with professor Filius Flitwick, the tiny and old Head of Ravenclaw House, and that’s the class where Scorpius finds true love. Apparently, while the magic required to change what an object _is_ fails to capture the youngest Malfoy’s interest, the magic to alter what an object _does_ manages to have him listening closely to every word spilling from the teacher’s mouth with rapt fascination. Their _Magical Theory_ book makes a second appearance that day and they’re told it will be the base upon which they’ll learn both subjects. Still, Professor Flitwick’s seems to favour a more practical approach and has them learn the basic Wand-Lighting Charm. The class struggles to get it right, most of them only managing to get a small flicker of light coming momentarily out of their wands, but Scorpius surprises their teacher succeeding on his first try.

“ _Lumos_!” he exclaims with conviction and performs the instructed wand movement, producing a bright and warm sphere of light at the tip of his wand, as well as several ooohs from his fellow Slytherins.

“Brilliant!” Professor Flitwick exclaims excitedly with an avid clap of his hands before he flicks his wand to dim the lights, so Scorpius’ wand shines brighter. “And on your first try, too. I believe this calls for a reward. 10 points for Slytherin!”.

The entire class claps making Scorpius’ cheeks gain the slightest trace of colour, luckily hidden behind the brightness of his wand and the darkness of the room. He can’t believe he just got his House the first points of the year.

 

“Congratulations,” Albus says as Scorpius exits the classroom and they both head to Herbology class, which they share with the Ravenclaws. Scorpius had been delayed talking to Professor Flitwick, who once again applauded his knack for the Wand-Lighting Charm, and the young Malfoy had been disappointed when he realised he’d have to wait until Thursday’s last period for their next class.

“Thanks,” Scorpius smiles shyly as they try to find the way to the greenhouses.

The Herbology Professor is no stranger to Albus: Neville Longbottom, former war hero and Head of Gryffindor House. He waits until both Houses arrive and asks them to form teams of three, preferably not all members of the same House. Albus quickly pulls his cousin Rose to his side so she can work with him and Scorpius, while Louis pairs with fellow Slytherin Tamara Pembrock and Lorelai O’Deluga, from Ravenclaw.

Neville keeps the class informal and easy-going as he presents them with different kinds of plants, asks them to identify them and explains their uses and the best way to take care of them. It is merely an introductory lesson, but it’s hands-on and full of information, and by the end of the hour both Houses have earned several points.

After third period it is time for a much needed lunch break, during which both Albus and Scorpius plop on their seats to cradle their heads.

“I am brain-dead,” Albus states.

“It’s like an information overload,” Scorpius moans.

“I know. I can’t believe last year I was learning basic math and stuff at school and now I’m supposed to turn my wand into a flashlight and actually understand Magical Theory.” At that, Scorpius raises an incredulous eyebrow.

“At school? You went to school? As in muggle school?”

“Yeah, primary school in Devon, why? You didn’t? How did you learn to read and count then?”

“Home-school,” Scorpius replies like it’s obvious, like even the question itself is outrageous. “By one of the finest and most renowned governess you’ll find in Britain,” the _like all Malfoys do_ going unspoken but loudly heard. Albus just blinks.

“B — but, what about friends? And you know, getting to know other people. An PE class! There’s nothing better than PE class,”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Physical Education, it’s basically sports class. It’s awesome. You learn to play football and stuff.”

“Football?”

“Muggle sport, all the rage in Muggle England. Next year will be the World Cup in Russia. Russia!”

“What’s so amazing about a sport where, I’m sure, you can’t fly?”

“I thought the same thing! But then I kicked a ball for the first time, and man, I understood. We also played basketball and volleyball, which are fun too. Actually, I’m kind of surprised there are more sports to play at muggle schools than here.”

“We’ve got Quidditch, what more do you need?”

“I guess you’re right. Too bad we’ll have to wait ‘till next year.”

“Yeah, it stinks.”

After a moment of silence and of wolfing down the food magically placed on their plates by the kitchen house-elves, Scorpius picks up the topic.

“So you were, like, in muggle school and all your classmates were muggles and you couldn’t talk of magic and stuff?”

“It was hard at first, but our parents were very strict on that point. I think one time James slipped and started talking about Quidditch and there were Memory Charms involved. Dad went ballistic and since then we were all very careful.”

“But why would you risk it in the first place? What is the point?”

“My dad was muggle raised, so was my aunt. They say it would help us learn to socialise and that knowing how to get by without magic never hurts. Besides, many families send their kids to muggle schools before they go to Hogwarts.”

“I don’t think I’d have survived,” Scorpius muses, still taken aback.

“You’re about to find out. Our next class is Muggle Studies.” Scorpius groans.

 

First year Slytherins have Muggle Studies on the seventh floor Mondays and Fridays after lunch. Their teacher is tall, dark-skinned and handsome and insists they call him Dean instead of Professor Thomas.

“I can’t believe we have to take this class. Dad said it used to be an elective for those muggle-crazed lunatics to take,” Scorpius had complained as they walked along the moving staircase.

“I think that’s the point. Dad told me the class became compulsory during the War, and it was used to show how stupid and pointless muggles were. After the War was over it was decided to leave it as a core class so there would be a better understanding of muggles, so they wouldn’t be oddities for some eccentrics to study. And believe me, I’ve dealt with muggles, they’re anything but stupid,” Albus had explained. Scorpius hadn’t been convinced.

Like Longbottom, Professor Thomas, or Dean, prefers the hands-on approach. He asks them to keep their wands away and goes briefly over the programme, which is basically an introduction to modern muggle technology. Then he hands them implements and asks them to use them to successfully build a small model house. The tools include a screwdriver, some screw eyes, nuts, bolts, duct tape and a wrench. He also makes it a boys-versus-girls contest, so Albus, Scorpius, Louis, Andrew and Nathaniel scramble to get the wooden pieces together and make them look like the house drawn on the blackboard.

The purpose, Dean explains, is they work on their three-dimensional thinking, which he says is way more developed in muggles than in wizards, given how they have to come up with ways of getting things done without the luxury of a wand. Albus figures this kind of exercises are meant to tear down the prejudices about muggles being dumb and hollow.

This is Albus first real chance to shine that day, as he’s the only Slytherin with any muggle experience whatsoever, and the only one who actually knows how to use a wrench. It takes them a while, but they manage to beat the girls and they’re awarded ten points for their problem-solving skills.

When the class is over, they all run to the door as Slytherins have their last period free. All but Albus, who’s waiting for Scorpius to grab his stuff and leave, but the blond boy standing still staring down at his hands in wonder.

“What is it?”

“I don’t know what to think.”

“About this class?”

“About the class, this exercise, muggle life in general, really.”

“Never worked with your hands before?”

“Never to build something, no. Is this what muggle kids do at school? Learn how to build houses and stuff?”

“Merlin, no!” Albus huffs, “It’s more like math and English grammar and things like that. But we do occasionally do some practical stuff, like age-appropriate stuff. Like, first year, we made a bean grow by planting it inside a piece of cotton. We watered it and tended to it until it sprouted a steam. I know it doesn’t sound like much, but when you’re five and you see you just made some tiny plant come to life, it’s pretty incredible. And who knows? Maybe that’ll come in handy in Herbology.”

“So you learn math and to plant beans, like, to become produce grocers.” The utter seriousness with which Scorpius states this makes Albus crack up.

“It’s more like discovering the world around you. You know: plant a tree, climb the monkey bars.”

“Monkey bars?” Scorpius asks with a raised eyebrow and an incredulous smirk.

“Not with actual monkeys, you twit.”

“I’m not sure you’re succeeding at making me see muggles as civilised.”

“Good thing that’s not my job, that’s Dean’s.”

“I can’t believe you’re calling Professor Thomas ‘Dean’!” Scorpius says scandalised.

“He asked us to.”

“It’s improper!”

“He asked us to.”

“And an absolute display of lack of manners.”

“He asked us to.”

“What’s next? Are you gonna call the Headmistress ‘Minerva’?

“He asked us to!”

“I can’t believe it.” Albus hangs his head.

 

They spend the rest of the afternoon exploring the grounds. They go by the Great Lake and Albus really, really wants to dive inside, but Scorpius pulls him away.

“One, it’s chilling. Two, you’ll probably get expelled, if you’re lucky, or eaten by the giant squid, if you’re not.” Albus just pouts.

Albus takes Scorpius to the groundskeeper house, Rubeus Hagrid, and explains he’s also the Care of Magical Creatures Professor and a family friend. Sadly, the family friend is not at his hut when they knock on the door, nor is his dog, so the pair decides to skirt the limits of the Forbidden Forest and wonder about the creatures that inhabit it and dare each other to venture inside as they do so.

After dinner they’re all given directions to the Astronomy Tower, where they’ll be attending class every Monday at midnight.

“Seriously, what’s up with this schedule from hell? Transfiguration first thing in the morning and Monday ends with Astronomy at midnight!”

“Well, technically, that makes it our first class of Tuesdays,” Albus points out.

“And then we have first period History of Magic. And dad says it is taught by a ghost. A ghost! He talked himself to death, Albus!”

Albus laughs at his friend at first, but it doesn’t take long for him to realise Scorpius had been right: after Professor Aurora Sinistra spends the hour teaching them the basics of using a telescope, they all quickly make their way from the top of the Astronomy Tower to the castle dungeons, eager to get as much hours of sleep as possible before their morning class, which turns out to be every bit the agonising hell everyone’s parents said it would be.

Professor Cuthbert Binns floats through the class blackboard, takes one minute to introduce himself to the Slytherin and Hufflepuff students assembled in the classroom before launching off on his never-ending monologue about the history of magic since the beginning of time.

“Maybe muggle education is not such a bad idea,” Scorpius concludes as they make their way to their Transfiguration class. Albus’ brain is too numb to laugh at his friend’s despair, or to agree with him, for that matter.

After a second theoretical Transfiguration lesson, they have Defence Against the Dark Arts with Professor John Dawlish. Even though they’ll be doing a lot of reading of _The Essential Defence Against the Dark Arts_ , Dawlish does teach them how to cast a Shield Charm, which makes it the second spell they learn.

“Hey, Albus, look! A break, finally! We’ve got the day off after lunch and tomorrow’s first period free! Then it’s Transfiguration and Herbology and after lunch History of Magic and Defence Against the Dark Arts. Come on, where do you wanna go?”

Unlike the day before, Albus, Scorpius and Louis, who tags along with them, decide to explore the castle instead of the grounds. They use what they’ve heard so far to successfully locate the entrance to the Ravenclaw Tower on the west side of the castle as well as to the Hufflepuff Basement near the kitchens (because both Albus and Louis got detailed information from their uncles on how to get to the kitchens). They even try to break into the Ravenclaw common room, but none of them can guess the answer to the riddle they’re posed by the bronze eagle-shaped knocker.

“What for each of us is inevitable?” the musical voice had asked them.

“Ageing!” Albus had cried promptly.

“Death!” Scorpius had said.

“The passage of time!” had been Louis’ answer.

“None of those, I’m afraid,” the knocker had said.

“What happens if you really can’t get the answer? How do you get into your frigging room?” Scorpius had asked, frustrated.

“You wait until somebody does, so you learn” had been the reply Scorpius got from the knocker before he flipped it off, prompting Albus to tease him mercilessly about being “improper” and showing “an absolute display of lack of manners”.

 

“Death by homework, that’s what is for each of us inevitable!” Albus cries later that night as he plops on an armchair next to Scorpius at their common room. Turns out, free periods were there for a reason, and now they have to deal with the assignments from four classes that are due the next day. Scorpius barely acknowledges his friend as he runs his eyes through pages and pages of books, trying to absorb as much information as possible so he can regurgitate it later on the ten-inch parchment he must hand in for Transfiguration. On the other side of the room, Louis, Andrew and Nathaniel aren’t doing much better.

As much as he complains about homework and poorly planned schedules, Albus soon discovers his friend Scorpius is secretly a bookworm and possesses a laser focus when it comes to acquiring and understanding new information. Albus can barely keep up with the blond as he goes through their assignments, seamlessly moving from the basics of Transfiguration to the uses for Mimbulus Mimbletonia to the intricacies of the hand movements of the Shield Charm. For his part, Albus tries not to pass out while reading the assigned chapter of _A History of Magic_.

In the end, Albus has to forcibly drag his stubborn friend to their dorm and promise him they’ll use their free first period to pick up where they left off.

Wednesday is a day from hell. Not only do they arrive late, sleep-deprived and with a growing migraine to Macmillan’s class, but it’s also the day the little bubble they’d been living in is burst by none other than Hogwarts’ resident poltergeist.

Albus had heard of Peeves from both his brother’s and his father’s stories but hadn’t come across the irreverent incarnation of chaos until he and Scorpius are on their way to Greenhouse 3 that morning.

“Oooooooh, and what do we have here?” the floating anthropomorphic figure asks in delight as he sees the pair walking through the halls, his dark eyes shining with a hint of mischief.

“Do my eyes deceive me or am I seeing the youngest Potter son and the youngest Malfoy walking together like two harmless innocent little Puffskeins? Surely a wrangle is about to come about, maybe an exchange of fisticuffs? I would start crying _Protego_ if I were you,” he said, addressing the final part to the crowd that was starting to notice the commotion, all while floating drawing circles before the boys’ dumbfounded eyes.

“Or is it possible? That potty wee Potter and killjoy Malfoy are actually … _friends_?” he asks in fake incredulity, with an exaggerated dramatic pause before spitting the word “friends” in a mocking tone. People around them start whispering. So far, they hadn’t socialised much beyond their own House, except their History of Magic lessons with the Hufflepuffs, who seemed to mind their own business, and Herbology with the Ravenclaws, where everyone was distracted by being taught by a former war hero to pay much attention to the two of them, except for Rose, who seemed to take everything in stride.

But now they were frozen in the middle of an increasingly crowded hall with the spotlight on them and people realising that yes, it was the son of _that_ Potter and the son of _that_ Malfoy actually breathing the same air without coming to blows and Al wished the castle would open up and swallow him whole, and Scorpius too, who seems to be suffering the same mortification, which only grows tenfold when among the crowd they spot Albus’ older brother James.

Scorpius can’t take the tension and the silence anymore and turns around to push his way through the assembling crowd and look for an alternate route to the greenhouses.

“Hey, Scorpius, wait!” Albus yells and follows after him, much to James’ utter disbelief and Peeves’ delight.

“Oooooooh, it just got interesting! It’s been a while since we had a good gossip at lil’ old Hogwarts!” he shrieks excitedly clapping his hands. James turns to him scandalised.

 

“Al, wait!” James calls after him after battling the crowd to try to catch up with his brother, who pointedly ignores him and quickens his pace. Scorpius is nowhere to be found and it frustrates him.

“Al!” James calls again.

“Save it,” Albus spat, not bothering to slow down or turn around to face his brother, who finally catches up with him and grabs his shoulder to get his attention.

“Al, come on.”

“What is it?” Albus huffs exasperated.

“I just wanna talk.”

“So talk.”

“You know who he is, don’t you?”

“He’s Scorpius,” Albus replies innocently.

“You know who his father is. Al, come on, you know how he and dad didn’t …”

“We are not our fathers,” Albus cuts him off darkly. For the first time ever, he allows himself to feel the anger at being constantly compared with his father. He soaks it up, lets it seep through him.

“You are not granddad, I am not dad and Scorpius is not his father. So stop being a git and leave me alone,” he growls shoving his brother’s hand off his shoulder and goes in search of the greenhouses, leaving James standing alone and dejected on the empty corridor.

Herbology class is awkward and full of forced silences as Professor Longbottom fully dives into the proper tending to Mimbulus Mimbletonia. They’re still working in teams of three, as they will for the rest of the year, and now that the hype of Neville Longbottom being their teacher is mostly over, their classmates are fully aware of how out of place a Malfoy looks sandwiched between a Potter and a Weasley. Surely it would’ve made more sense if Albus and Rose had paired with Louis, but, alas, the part-veela kid is calmly transplanting a Mimbulus Mimbletonia root standing at ease between Tamara Pembrock and Lorelai O’Deluga, elegantly ignoring the hushed whispers floating inside the greenhouse. Professor Longbottom, thankfully, does his best to ignore them too.

“Don’t let it get to you”, Rose tells Albus when Scorpius leaves them to fetch a watering can. So far, the blond boy has limited himself to speak only when necessary, looking subdued and choosing to focus on work instead of talking. “I know dad would probably have a fit but I like Scorpius, and I don’t feel like competing against someone for grades. I study to learn, not to compete,” the red-headed girl says, prompting Albus to produce a shy snort as he thinks _Ravenclaws._

“Don’t worry about it, Rose. James is just being a git.”

“What else is new? Anyways, you should tell your parents about this.”

“Don’t worry, Rose. I will.”

 

_Dear mom and dad,_

_I’m sorry I didn’t write you when I first got here, but in all honesty I was worried about how you would react about me being sorted in Slytherin. I know you told me I had nothing to worry about, dad, but I guess I needed time to process it myself. I always thought I’d be in Gryffindor just like you guys and James and all our family, but I guess even the Sorting Hat knew better that to let me and James share a dorm._

_But there is nothing for you to worry about. Slytherin is great, the common room is stunning and our dorm is under the Lake. The Lake! One of our dorm walls is actually a window that gives to the Lake, so it looks like we’re sleeping inside an aquarium. I know you guys once told me dad had been to the Slytherin common room once, but I doubt he had the time to appreciate how utterly wonderful it is. Though I admit I must be somewhat biased, as dad probably would have been at the time._

_Classes are great. Transfiguration is full of work and we only had our first go at trying to turn a matchstick into a needle today, and I sort of pant at_ Lumos _, which is the first thing we learnt at Charms Monday morning, but it’s all still great. History of Magic is every bit as boring as you said it would be, even Rose looks a little disheartened to take the class, and you guys know that’s saying something. Defence Against the Dark Arts is great, I’ve nearly mastered_ Protego _, and Muggle Studies is also fun. Professor Thomas says hi, by the way, and so do Professors Macmillan, Dawlish and Longbottom._

_Anyways, there’s something I should probably tell you guys before you hear it from somebody else, most likely James. On the train ride here I made a friend, and he was sorted in my House too! So we share a dorm and all our classes. We seem to get along, he’s my partner in Herbology along with Rose (we share that class with the Ravenclaws) and he’s brilliant at Charms. Brilliant! He managed to do the Wand-Lighting Charm on his first go. Anyways, his name is … well, he’s Scorpius Malfoy._

_I can imagine you guys probably aren’t thrilled (and uncle Ron and aunt Hermione probably won’t be either), James already made his opinion clear. But Scorpius and I’ve talked about it and we don’t really want to stop hanging out because of our last names._

_I don’t know how you guys will take the news, but I’m scared James might do something stupid and tomorrow we have our first Flying lesson with the Gryffindors and I’m afraid for what could happen. I am only glad James is two years ahead of me, otherwise I’d be freaking out of my mind._

_Anyways, that’s all for now. I hope I’m not being a complete disappointment already. I hope you are doing great, give Lily my best. I love you._

_Sincerely,  
Al_

 

There are no owls for Albus during breakfast the next morning, though Scorpius receives his third letter from home that day. His friend explains to him how they set up a corresponding schedule at home where he writes to his parents on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays so he gets their reply on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays. Albus is amazed at the order pushed forward at the Malfoy household, as it was evident when he saw the absolute pulchritude inside Hunter’s nest at the castle Owlery.

Albus stares longingly at the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall, begrudgingly finishing his breakfast before his first Flying lesson he dreads to share with the Gryffindors. Before they set foot on the deserted Quidditch pitch, he decides to pull Scorpius aside and put an end to the uncomfortable silence between them.

“Listen, I meant it at the train, I am not my last name and neither are you. I don’t care what everyone says.”

“I know, I don’t either,” Scorpius agrees, “sorry for being distant and stuff, I just didn’t want to make things worse.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Albus assures him.

“So, are you ready to prove you’re as talented on the broom as you claim to be?”

“I bet you five Frog Chocolate Cards I can fly higher and faster than you!” Albus challenges him.

“Challenge accepted. And Salazar Slytherin and Paracelsus better be among those five.”

They run to the pitch considerably more animated and eagerly get in line to attend Professor Spinnet’s instructions.

Though they still receive not so covert side glances from them, Gryffindors don’t make the fuss Albus thought they’d make, as they seem to be much more interested on hopping on the broom and be finally airborne. Albus and Scorpius barely wait for professor Spinnet to give the go-ahead to the students with previous broom experience before kicking the ground and taking off.

Scorpius proves to be a skilled flyer, but Albus is clearly a natural. He whoops in delight as he soars through the pitch, his blond friend chasing close behind, but never close enough. When they land, professor Spinnet congratulates them and Jackson Abercrombie from Gryffindor for their outstanding abilities on the broom and assures them they’d have no problem getting into their Houses’ Quidditch Teams the next year, should they try out for them.

“You take after your father,” Professor Spinnet says to Albus, “I played with him for Gryffindor. He was the youngest player to play in over a hundred years. Are you trying out for the Seeker position next year?”

“I’ve always wanted to be a Chaser, like Gonçalo Flores!” The teacher smiles.

“I was a Chaser for Gryffindor. You’ll have a lot of fun, and with that speed, you’ll be pretty good too.” Albus beams.

 

Albus’ parents reply finally arrives during the free period after their double Flying session. His father’s owl finds him and Scorpius sprawled on the grass by the Lake (they did not learn their lesson about free periods) and Albus jumps to take the envelope from the bird. Inside, there are two pieces of parchment with two different sets of handwriting. He opens the first one and immediately recognises his dad’s.

 

_Dear Albus,_

_First of all, we are happy you finally wrote to us. We were beginning to worry James had teased you too much about writing home every day. Second, I’ll tell you once again what I told you at King’s Cross: I don’t care in the least what House you were sorted in, neither does your mother, and Slytherin has gained an excellent student. And third, you could never, ever, be a disappointment to us, got that? So don’t you ever think that again._

_I am glad you’re finding your dorm to your liking and that classes are going well for you. I know the work load can be tough, especially if you compare it with what you got at muggle school._

_And wow, did Flitwick really taught you the Wand-Lightning Charm on your first day of school? That used to be on the programme of Defence Against the Dark Arts later in the year, I’m glad to know the man’s shaking things up a little. Don’t worry about not getting it right on your first try, spells can take a while to master (unless you’re your aunt Hermione or, apparently, young Scorpius Malfoy)._

_Speaking of which. I never told you how Scorpius’ dad and I met, did I? We met on the train, just like you two did. I was already making friends with your uncle Ron when he came to our car. He and Ron immediately disliked each other, as Weasleys and Malfoys had stood on opposite sides regarding muggles and muggle-borns since forever. I remember Draco offering me his hand so we could be friends. Of course, the implication was obvious: to be his friend and not Ron’s, and as you can imagine I never shook it._

_Sometimes I wonder if maybe things could’ve been different had I just taken Draco’s hand. I don’t mean ditching your uncle Ron, but realising that it wasn’t a question of either or. But I was eleven and saw a lot of things black and white (or red and green, as seems to be the trend at Hogwarts) so I picked a side not realising I could’ve picked both and maybe prevented years of bad blood between Draco and us._

_So I am glad you and Scorpius were able to see past the last names and House colours and made the choice I didn’t make. You seem to think highly of him (and for good reason, if he got the Wand-Lighting Charm right on the first go, that spell is tricky) and I trust your judgement, I’ve always had._

_People will always see anything that defies the_ status quo _with wary eyes, so it’s normal if there’s a reaction to your friendship with Scorpius, but don’t let it get to you. I like to think your mother and I (and all your family, really) fought so you could be free to choose your own path, something Scorpius’ dad, and many in our generation never had._

_And don’t worry about James, I‘ll have a word with him. Don’t let this kind of things drive a wedge between you two. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’d miss my little pair of troublemakers wrecking havoc wherever they go. Maybe you do have a point about the Sorting Hat purposely separating you._

_I hope you keep having fun in your classes (or that at least you don’t die of boredom at History of Magic) and don’t forget you have tea with Hagrid this Friday after classes. Take care of yourself and try not to let your Potter and Weasley genes get you into too much trouble._

_Lots of love,  
Dad_

 

The second letter goes along the same lines and offers some useful advice for his classes.

 

_Dear Albus,_

_There’s not much I can say your father hasn’t said already, so I’ll just stress, so you never doubt it, that we love you no matter what. Slytherin is lucky to have you and your cousin Louis and I’m glad you like it there._

_As for your new friend, there was a lot of bad blood between your father and his father, and also between his grandfather and myself, which is why I am utterly relieved history isn’t repeating itself. It certainly did a lot in our generation, when a new history was much needed instead. I hope this friendship can grow to be just like your dad and your uncle Ron’s was. And if it doesn’t, that’s okay too, that’s what Hogwarts years are for: to start to find your own place in the world._

_Don’t let classes stress you too much. Remember the key to the Wand-Lighting Charm is in the wrist movement, and don’t let Neville’s informal tone fool you, everything that comes out of his mouth will be on the final exam. He takes after his mentor, Professor Sprout, when it comes to grading tests._

_Give our love to Neville and Hagrid, Lily sends hers to you and James. Say hi to Rose and Louis for us and don’t hesitate to write anytime you want._

_Loves you,  
Mom_

 

After he’s done reading, Albus shows his letters to a curious Scorpius. The weight he’d felt all morning over his chest swiftly fading away.

“See? Nothing to worry about,” Albus tells him.

“I can see that,” Scorpius agrees, “it doesn’t sound like he hated my dad. People always made it seem like they were these irreconcilable enemies.”

“I think they were, but I think it’s the kind of thing you leave behind after school. Like, they’re not kids anymore, they can’t keep going at it, can they?”

“I guess not,” Scorpius concedes, “it that _Lumos_ spell really that hard? I don’t see what all the fuss is about.” His friend raises an incredulous eyebrow before answering.

“You’re joking, right? No one in the class could do it. No one. And I don’t know why you’re surprised. We both know under that devil may care thing you’ve got going, you’re secretly a nerd.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“I’ll hex you.”

“And you’ll get called to the Headmistress’ office and you’ll miss the Charms lesson you’ve been waiting for all week.” That seems to shut Scorpius up.

“See? Nerd.” Albus grins before running back to the castle, chased by a jokingly outraged Scorpius.

Scorpius still bounces eagerly on his way to the Charms classroom, after bolting straight to the door the instant Dawlish’s class is over. Albus might have been joking about his too-cool-for-school pose, but the young Malfoy can’t deny how the act falls as soon as Flitwick’s lesson begins. Albus laughs and shakes his head, but figures he’ll let him be; after all, his friend just lost five Chocolate Frog Cards at their Flying lesson.

 

James finds them on their way to their common room after dinner. He’s clutching a small package with both hands as he fidgets, nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Scorpius makes a detour for the bathroom to give the pair some privacy.

“So, I got another owl from dad. I think it must be a new record, two reprimands in less than a week,” he tries to joke, but the serious mood makes the quip fall flat, “he kindly reminded me that he fought a war so kids would never be judged because of their blood, and that judging Scorpius for who his father is is exactly the kind of mentality Voldemort capitalised on during the War.” He says it all in one breath, as if he’d memorised it word by word from his dad’s letter, and Albus can tell his brother truly regrets his previous attitude.

“So, can you forgive me for being a git, again, so we can be brothers again?” James asks when Albus doesn’t reply right away.

“It’s alright, James. Don’t worry about it.”

“I do worry. I feel so proud of carrying two of the original Order of the Phoenix members’ names and here I am, acting like everything our parents stood against.”

“It’s okay, James, I mean it, don’t beat yourself up about it,” Albus assures him.

“You think I could apologise to Scorpius?” James asks, “I haven’t been the nicest person to him. And look, I even got him something as a peace offering,” he says presenting Albus with the Chocolate Frog he’d been holding.

When Albus calls Scorpius to come out of the bathroom, James awkwardly apologises and assures him he’ll never interfere with their friendship again, then gives him the Chocolate Frog he got for him. Scorpius waits until he’s left alone with Albus to tear the wrapping open, shove the treat inside his mouth and look down at the card he got.

“Here. Now I only owe you four.”

“I don’t want Neville Longbottom! I want Circe!”

“In your dreams, Potter,” Scorpius singsongs as he runs towards the dungeons.

“Oh, you bugger!” Albus mutters with a grin as he follows suit.

 

Friday is the day Albus and Scorpius finally take a class with the Head of their own House. They’d met Professor Higgs when they first got installed inside their dorms their first night at Hogwarts, but it isn’t until their double session Potions class with the Gryffindors that they actually get to know him.

Professor Terence Higgs is tall, has light green eyes and dirty blond hair and, despite being in his forties, he looks surprisingly fit and well preserved. He has them started on a simple Hair-Growing Potion that, according to him, will allow them to go through the basics of potion-making, from setting up the cauldron and selecting and preparing the ingredients to brewing and performing the correct wand movements.

Unlike anything Albus had heard from his father about his namesake Severus Snape, Professor Higgs is pretty laidback and friendly. He answers kindly any questions addressed to him and doesn’t seem to pit the Slytherins and the Gryffindors against each other.

Unlike anything Scorpius had heard from his father about the now retired Horace Slughorn, Professor Higgs pays little attention to his students last names or the potential for mutually beneficial connections that could derive from them. Instead he makes sure they all know he’ll be pretty ambitious with the programme he wants to cover during their first year and that slacking will not be tolerated.

He makes no comment when a late-arriving Jackson Abercrombie sits with Albus and Scorpius as they were the only ones not in a group of three (Louis had walked from their Charms class with Andrew and Nathaniel so he sat with them). Jackson is one of the few Gryffindors not wary about socialising with the Slytherins, specially with Albus and Scorpius, as he had bonded with them over their shared flying skills during Professor Spinnet’s class the day before.

When the lesson is over, Professor Higgs asks Scorpius to stay behind so he can have a word with him.

“I knew you father, you know,” he tells the boy when they’re left alone, “I was in my seventh year when he first got here, so I really only coincided with him for a year, but I was a prefect so I made it my business to know everyone. He was a good lad. I know many people outside his House would say differently, but he was a good friend and loyal to those he called his own.”

Scorpius nods silently unsure of what to say. He, of course, had seen the side of his dad most people preferred to pretend didn’t exist, the loving and fiercely loyal one. But he knew the general opinion about the Malfoy family.

“I’m telling you this because I know kids from Slytherin parents can have a hard time from time to time, specially if they are in Slytherin too, but times have changed and there’s no reason to perpetuate old grudges that aren’t ours. I see you’re friends with Albus Potter.”

Scorpius nods again.

“He looks like a nice lad. His father certainly was. A hell of a Seeker, too, I remember him giving me a run for my money during his first year, even if he did catch the Snitch with his mouth.” Scorpius barks an incredulous laugh at that. That particular bit of information is usually omitted from the multiple biographies of the heroes of the Second Wizarding War.

“Anyways, what I’m trying to say is don’t be afraid to be your own person, and if anyone gives you a hard time, you come to me, alright?” He waits for Scorpius’ nod before adding “my door is always open.”

“Thank you, Professor Higgs.”

“Not at all. Now go, it’s lunch time and your friend must be waiting for you.”

Muggle Studies and Herbology mark Slytherins’ two final classes of the week and give way to a much expected weekend, though they’ve got enough homework to keep them all busy until Monday morning.

Albus takes Scorpius with him to his tea date with Hagrid at his hut. This time, both the groundskeeper and his oversized boarhound dog are home when they arrive.

“Down, boy,” they can hear Hagrid command his dog, who started to bark aggressively from the other side of the door from the moment the boys approached the front steps.

“Easy, Fang, ’s probably jus’ Albus comin’ fer tea,” Hagrid says as he opens the door, “see, ’s jus’ —” the half-giant trails off as he sees two boys at his doorstep instead of just the one, and he startles when he recognises in Scorpius the features of a boy he knew all too well.

“Hey, Albus, I see yeh brought a friend,” he says unsurely.

“Hey, Hagrid. This is my friend Scorpius, he’s a Slytherin, just like me. Scorpius, meet Hagrid,”

The young blond boy politely offers his hand to the long-bearded man before him, who takes it not without hesitation.

“Scorpius Malfoy. Somehow it doesn’ surprise me yeh’re in Slytherin. Yeh, on the other hand,” he adds turning to Albus.

“I’m ambitious and competitive and everyone’s known that since I was five. I honestly don’t know why everyone is so surprised,” Albus says with a roll of his eyes as he makes his way inside Hagrid’s hut, dragging Scorpius with him.

“All yer family’s bin in Gryffindor since forever, I guess we all expected yeh to —”

“Victoire, Dominique and Rose are in Ravenclaw, and Louis is in Slytherin with me,” Albus counters as he goes to pet Fang, who has taken to sniff both boys and decides he likes them both, showing it by licking both of their hands as they pet him.

“Hey, Fang. This is Scorpius.”

“Hey, Fang,” Scorpius greets as he scratches behind Fang’s ears.

“Well, I guess if Fang approves,” Hagrid shrugs at last before closing the door.

Hagrid serves the young boys steaming cups of quince tea along with a tray of Honeydukes’ pastries as Albus tells him about their classes, with Scorpius nodding along, still unsure of how to act around the half-giant, as he keeps eying him suspiciously for a while. But by their third cup of tea, Hagrid seems to have decided he doesn’t dislike the boy and stops, making Scorpius a feel a tad more relaxed.

“And Scorpius and I were the best fliers at our Flying lesson, along with a Gryffindor kid called Jackson. We’re gonna try-out for the Quidditch Team next year!” Albus says excitedly.

“With Harry and Ginny as yer paren’s, I’m pretty sure yeh’ll be an excellen’ Seeker,” Hagrid tells him.

“I’m actually aiming for the Chaser position, and Scorpius wants to be a Keeper, don’t you?”

“That’s right.”

“Oh, yeah, I forgot, yer Gonçalo Flores obsession,” Hagrid comments.

“I am not obsessed with him!” Albus protests.

“You kind of are,” Scorpius agrees with a shy smile, making his friend glare at him.

“Didn’ yer dad mention yeh had all yer walls covered with posters o’ ‘im?”

“And didn’t you said his performance at the Quidditch World Cup was like poetry made sport?” Scorpius managed to get Hagrid to laugh at that.

“I hate you both,” Albus sulks.

 

After that first week, their magical education is a rollercoaster ride of homework and increasingly complicated spellwork, that even Rose finds herself struggling with from time to time. Potions grow more and more intricate by the week and so do the transfigurations they learn. After the initial games that first day at Muggle Studies, Professor Thomas dives into the basics of electricity and muggle technology, all of which perplexes Scorpius to no end. Learning that free periods are for catching up on homework and not for slacking is a rite of passage they all go through before October begins.

It is during that month when the first of many newspaper bombs arrives during their morning owl post delivery.

 

Potter and Malfoy’s offspring. The apples fall far from the tree?

by Rita Skeeter

The arrival of the 2017-2024 class to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry brought with it the progeny of one of the most notorious wizarding rivalries of the Second War, that is the one between The Boy Who Lived, Harry Potter, and pure-blooded Draco Malfoy, son of former, and some say wrongly exonerated, Death Eater Lucius Malfoy.

As it seems to have transpired, the youngest Potter son, Albus Severus, named after two late controversial Hogwarts Headmasters, and Malfoy’s only heir, Scorpius, could have formed and unlikely friendship no doubt born from both of them being sorted in the same House: the green and silver House of Salazar Slytherin.

While young Scorpius, no doubt, should feel at home in Slytherin since the entire Malfoy line has been sorted there for generations, as well as his mother’s line, the Greengrass family, it certainly came as a surprise when Albus Severus Potter, who seems to be the spitting image of his father except for the visual impairment, was placed in the House of the serpent by the Sorting Hat. This is even said to have caused frictions between him and his older brother, James Sirius, known for causing several points losses to the Gryffindor House due to his constant acts of indiscipline and rebellion.

Little is known about Draco Malfoy’s current whereabouts after he and his parents were pardoned after the War on the grounds of providing substantial information that lead to the capture of several Death Eaters, except that he lives as a recluse at his family manor, paying little attention to anything else aside from his Alchemy scrolls. What is well known, however, is how the upstanding position of the Malfoy family name plummeted to the ground after the fall of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Is it possible that the Malfoy elders are pitching for a strong political alliance by having their youngest befriend the son of The Chosen One?

With the wizarding world still reeling with the repercussions of the Second Wizarding War, is it safe for all to have two halves of one of the most volatile last name combinations together during their magical education at Hogwarts? Let’s not forget Albus’ mother is former Holyhead Harpies Chaser and current Quidditch correspondent Ginevra Potter (née Weasley), born to a long line of Gryffindors and, according to several documental sources about the Second War, nearly an assassination victim by none other than Lucius Malfoy himself.

Is there an angle the Potter and Malfoy families are going for with this unlikely friendship between their sons or did this improbable relationship happen by mere chance? Only time will tell.

 

Albus is speechless after he’s done reading. He can’t believe what he just read is something that actually exists. From the looks of it, neither can Scorpius, as he’s not only shocked into silence too, but also so pale that his marble white skin looks almost translucent.

“I can’t believe this,” Albus mutters.

“My dad’s not a recluse!” Scorpius complains in a choked voice, still unable to tear his eyes from the newspaper before him, “I mean, he might not go out as much, because some people think it’s okay to treat him like rubbish, but he’s not — he’s not a —”

“I know, Scorpius, I know. This is all rubbish. I mean, it was me who approached you at the train! And you weren’t even keen on the idea of us talking in the first place. This story makes it sound like you were targeting me.”

“My dad actually warned me to beware the Potters. I think he might have thought you would bully me.” Albus huffs a laugh at that.

“That utter bitch!” Rose appears at their table holding a copy of _The Daily Prophet_ , which she furiously slams on the table. “Have you seen this?”

“Yes, Rose, we have.”

“It was that Rita Skeeter hag, you know who, the one that described our family as fake appearance-keeping hypocrites during the World Cup. The one mom discovered to be an unregistered animagus and who is somehow still employed by this dreadful excuse for a newspaper.”

“Unregistered animagus?” Scorpius asks.

“That’s how she gets her information, she turns herself into a beetle. So if you see one near you, probably best to crush it.”

“That would be murder, Rose.”

“I don’t care!” Rose shrieks as Scorpius laughs. “Things had been doing so well. After the initial shocked passed, people stopped giving you guys a hard time. James’ come around and even Peeves has lost interest.”

“And things will continue to be fine. People will talk about this and wonder if I’m really ‘going for an angle’ here and then it will die out. Some other rumour will capture everyone’s interest,” Scorpius reasons.

“Does your dad know we are friends?” Albus asks cautiously.

“If he didn’t, he does now,” Rose says.

“He does. I told him about you in the first letter I wrote home. He warned me again to be careful and that you and your family might make my life hell, but after the next couple of letters he seemed to be appeased.”

“Well, then I wouldn’t worry about this. It’s just this Skeeter hag trying too hard. But I was serious about her being a beetle. If you see one, you better do something about it, like trap it in a jar and take it to McGonagall.”

“Or crush it?” Albus suggests with a playful smile.

“Yeah, that too,” Rose replies with a blush at her previous outburst.

 

Skeeter’s story on _The Daily Prophet_ is long forgotten by the time Halloween arrives. There was some talk about it at first, but by then everybody in their year knew the genuine nature of the friendship between Albus and Scorpius so it died soon after it started, none of the students aware of the ripple it had caused outside of Hogwarts.

Halloween celebrations with the Weasleys begin after school with a small gathering at Hagrid’s hut, to which Scorpius is invited due to his friendship with Albus, Rose and Louis.

“Oh, good! Non-Gryffindors!” Victoire greets the first-year foursome as they arrive at Hagrid’s, “Dominique and I were feeling awfully outnumbered.”

“Which is one more reason she’s moping about Teddy not being here,” her sister Dominique teases.

“Oh, shut up,” Victoire snaps.

Aside from Victoire, who is finishing her seventh and last year, the party is assembled by Molly Weasley, who is in her sixth year; Fred and Lucy, who are in their fifth; Roxanne, a fourth-year, and Dominique and James, who are in their third.

Just like Louis, Victoire’s and Dominique’s veela heritage is evident, just in varying degrees. Whereas Louis’ hair is bright metallic red, in Victoire the Delacour genes were more prominent, giving her shiny strawberry blond hair. Dominique, in turn, had silvery blond hair with slight pink shades to it. All of them were beautiful and had a magnetic quality to their attractiveness.

Molly and Lucy are the textbook definition of Weasley women: tall, fiery red hair, strong personality and unapologetic boldness. Both Gryffindors, of course. Meanwhile, Fred and Roxanne’s mixed ascent gave them distinctly unique features with darker red hair, brown eyes and darker skin than the rest of their family, kissed by a light dust of freckles.

Just like every time they visit, Hagrid serves them Honeydukes’ pastries to go along with their tea. They discuss classes and tease each other and for the first time Scorpius feels fully embraced by Albus’ family.

They all head together to the Halloween Feast held at the castle, which like every year doesn’t disappoint neither in the decoration, the entertainment nor the food. Albus and Scorpius stuff themselves with cake and candy and Louis comments animatedly on the show offered by the school ghosts with Rose, who sat at the Slytherin table with them. Albus is daring Scorpius to use their recently learned Levitation Charm on the pumpkins set by Hagrid at the staff table when the howler arrives.

A small sized owl flies through the candle lit Hall and dropps the red envelope on Scorpius’ now empty plate, prompting concerned looks from Albus, Rose and Louis.

“Is that a howler?” Albus asks incredulous.

“It — looks like it,” Scorpius replies unsure.

“Your dad sent it to you?” Rose asks.

“I don’t think so, though there’s no sender written on the envelope.”

“Open it before it explodes!” Louis urges, shifting slightly away from his friend.

With shaking hands, Scorpius opens the howler, well aware of his classmates’ eyes on him, as most of the ones seated close to him had noticed the presence of the bright red envelope on the table.

A loud boom precedes the message on the howler, forcing the entire Hall into silence, then an unnaturally deep voice reverberates through the castle.

“YOU FILTHY DEATH EATER SCUM!

“IF I HAD KNOWN YOUR DISGUSTING MURDERING FATHER HAD THE NERVE TO SEND HIS SPAWN TO HOGWARTS I WOULD HAVE MADE SURE YOU NEVER BOARDED THE TRAIN.

“STAY AWAY FROM THE MUGGLE-BORNS, YOU LITTLE PIECE OF SHIT, OR I’LL PERSONALLY GO THERE AND KILL YOUR SORRY ARSE. AND YOU BETTER WATCH YOUR BACK, YOUR FAMILY CAUSED SO MUCH PAIN THAT IF I SEE YOUR UGLY FACE I’LL MAKE SURE I KILL YOU TO MAKE SURE YOU DON’T FOLLOW INTO YOUR ROTTEN FATHER’S FOOTSTEPS.

“TELL THAT ARSEHOLE TO STOP REPRODUCING, WE DON’T NEED MORE MALFOYS RUNNING AROUND. TELL HIM I’LL FIND HIM AND KILL HIM RIGHT AFTER I SHOVE HIS WAND UP HIS —”

Scorpius never got to hear where the sender intended to shove his father’s wand, as the howler bursts into flames before his horrified eyes. Behind him, Headmistress McGonagall has her wand pointed at the pile of ashes now settled on his plate. The Great Hall had been stunned into silence and Scorpius just sits there, open-mouthed and teary-eyed, with his hands shaking and his lip trembling.

“Mr. Malfoy,” McGonagall says, getting no response from the boy.

“Scor —” Albus starts, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder, but the boy shoves it away before getting on his feet and bolting towards the Hall entrance.

“Scorpius, wait!” Albus call as he chases after him, Rose and Louis following behind.

 

Albus finds Scorpius sitting on a deserted corridor with his head buried between his arms. He can see his friend is sobbing, all Malfoy composure forgotten, not that Albus faults him for it.

“Hey, Scorpius, are you okay?” he asks cautiously and mentally kicks himself. Scorpius is decidedly not okay.

“Go away,” his friend says between sobs.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Albus states as he sits besides the other boy and tentatively puts an arm around his shoulder. On the corner of his eye he can see Rose and Louis finally catching up to them.

“I don’t know who sent you that howler, but don’t let him get to you. He didn’t even have the balls to sign it, and his voice was magically distorted, so he’s obviously a coward. Screw him.”

“Yes, a coward and a monumental git for sending death threats to a child,” Rose agrees.

“We could probably take him on if he tried to live up to them, though, specially you, being so brilliant at Charms and all,” Louis adds trying to lighten the mood, but Scorpius is still unresponsive, though his sobs have stopped, which Albus counts as a win.

“Come on, Scorpius, let’s go to bed. We could all use a good night sleep,” Albus tries to coax his friend, to no avail, so he pulls him to his side and tightens the hold on him instead. Scorpius lets him.

“Um, Al?” A voice calls from the end of the corridor. It’s James.

“Scorpius’ dad is here, McGonagall summoned him. So is dad. They’re at her office, I was sent to get Scorpius, but McGonagall said it was okay if you guys went with him.”

“I don’t know if I can face my dad right now,” Scorpius says at last in a choked voice.

“He’s probably worried out of his mind. I know I would be if I were him,” Rose assures him.

“Come on, let’s take you to McGonagall’s,” Albus says as he tries to get his friend on his feet.

 

Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter are already sitting at the Headmistress office when the four friends arrive.

“Scorpius!” Draco exclaims as he jumps off his chair to hug his son, who wraps him in a tight embrace.

“I’m sorry, dad,” he sobs.

“Nothing to be sorry about, champ, nothing at all,” Draco assures him. Meanwhile, Harry stands up to meet his son, who hugs him too.

“They sent him a death threat, dad,” Albus says.

“I know, son, that’s why I’m here,” Harry explains.

“You’re gonna find who did it, right dad? And send him to Azkaban.”

“We will find him, son, sending death threats to a child is something very serious, we won’t take it lightly, I promise,” Harry vows, addressing the last part to Scorpius’ father.

“It’s all because of that story in the paper, the one Rita Skeeter wrote. She caused all this,” Rose bristles.

“I read what she wrote. I can’t believe the _Prophet_ still publishes her scum,” Harry says.

“How did she even —” Draco begins to ask and then he remembers, "oh, right. Beetle."

“We’ll keep an eye out for her, then,” McGonagall declares.

“And what are we doing about this?” Draco asks, still holding his son tightly.

“I’m going to look for the man who sent this howler and bring him to justice. I am sure Scorpius will be safe here at Hogwarts, won’t he, Headmistress?”

“Of course he will. This school is still one of the safest places in the wizarding world,” McGonagall promises.

“And what about his classmates? Will they — are they — what if they give him a hard time?”

“Dad!” Scorpius complains with an embarrassed whine, but still doesn’t let go of his father.

“From time to time, kids of wizards involved with Voldemort during the War are targeted by confused kids who think it’s alright to harass them,” McGonagall admits, “but we put and end to it pretty quickly, the teaching staff and myself. It is a conduct we do not tolerate at Hogwarts and it is dealt with swiftly. If young Scorpius happens to be in the receiving end of any kind of untoward treatment, I assure you, Mr. Malfoy, we will stop it.” Draco acknowledges the Headmistress’ promise with a curt nod before turning to his son.

“Why don’t you and your friends go to bed? You must all be tired. I assure you everything will be alright. You already heard Mr. Potter, he’ll find who did this, so you mustn’t worry, alright?”

“Yes, dad.” With a final hug, Scorpius lets go of his father’s robes and takes his advice, his friends following behind him.

After a longer adult talk with the Headmistress about the issue at hand, Draco and Harry exit McGonagall’s office well past midnight. Before saying their goodbyes, Draco stops Harry forcibly grabbing his arm.

“He’s my only son,” he says with a trembling voice, “and possibly the only thing in my life I’ve done right.”

“He looks like a wonderful child,” Harry agrees, “and from what Albus tells me, a very bright and gifted wizard.”

“He is,” Draco confirms proudly.

“I’ll find who sent him that howler, Draco, I promise,” Harry says and Draco’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise at hearing him call him by his first name. Ultimately that’s what makes Draco believe the other man is not taking the matter lightly.

“Thank you.”

 

Unfortunately for Harry and the aurors he assigned to investigate the death threat, the howler sends a precedent for others to arrive. Some are similar threats of violence, some are merely hate messages aimed at Scorpius, and some are even addressed to McGonagall for allowing the children of known Death Eaters to attend Hogwarts. McGonagall teaches Scorpius a potent Freezing Charm, slightly advanced for his year, so he can prevent the howlers from exploding and send them to Harry for his office to investigate, which makes it pretty clear there is more than one author to them.

It doesn’t take long for the animosity to permeate to the student body, as shortly before winter break, Tyler Langdon from Gryffindor runs into Scorpius as he, Albus and Rose are heading for Herbology. Albus is recounting excitedly how Scorpius managed a Magnetic Charm so potent earlier that morning that the nails Flitwick had given the class for them to practice flew from all the tables directly to the small metallic cup he had enchanted, even the windows blew open as the iron window frames had been affected by the strong magnetism. Scorpius is shyly muttering that it was nothing when Tyler walks by and makes it a point to bump his shoulder into him to shove him aside.

“Watch it, Death Eater!” he spits.

“Hey!” Albus protests.

“Take it easy, Al, it’s not worth it,” Scorpius mutters trying to placate his friend.

“What did you just say?” Tyler flares up, “huh?”

“I said you’re not worth it,” Scorpius repeats meeting the other boy’s eyes, more confident this time.

“The Death Eater says I’m not worth it, is that right? You think you’re all that, don’t you? With your money and your arsehole sense of privilege. I bet I could take you on any day.”

“Is that a challenge?” Scorpius asks darkly.

“What if it is, huh? What if it is? Are you gonna duel me or are you gonna go cry to daddy?”

Before he or his friends can answer, an indignant voice shrieks behind Tyler.

“Tyler Langdon!” Minerva McGonagall calls making all colour drain from the Gryffindor’s face. “I didn’t just hear you instigate a duel, did I?”

Tyler gapes like a fish, unable to put thoughts into coherent words.

“I’ll tell you what, normally, proposing or engaging in a duel would call for House points deduction, but somehow I doubt that would teach you anything, so this is what we’ll do. As you know, there’s a Duelling Club organised by Professor Dawlish. It is normally for students in their second year and onwards, but if you are confident you can take on a duel with your half a year of magical education, I’m sure we can make an exception for you, Mr. Langdon. As it happens, Duelling Club meets on Mondays after class, so why don’t we all meet there and you can show us all your magical prowess?”

Scorpius, Albus and Rose’s mouth fall open, Rose specially can’t believe their Headmistress is actually encouraging them to fight. Tyler, for his part, turns even whiter, but being a true Gryffindor, and probably to avoid the point deduction that would undoubtedly follow if he refuses, he agrees.

“It’s all set then,” McGonagall states, “see you all after class.”

 

Scorpius can barely concentrate through the rest of the day, though Albus, Rose and Louis do their best to ease his friend’s worries away. His fellow Slytherins also try to lift his confidence, but to no avail.

“Come on, Malfoy, we all know you’re an overachiever magical prodigy, Langdon’s got nothing on you,” Nathaniel tells him after class.

For her part, Rose can’t hide her disapproval of McGonagall’s methods.

“I get that she’s trying to teach Tyler a lesson, but what fault does Scorpius have?”

“She probably knows you can beat him with your eyes closed, right mate?” Albus says throwing an arm around his friend’s shoulder as they walk to the Duelling Club. Scorpius is too nervous to reply.

 

The classroom where the Duelling Club is held is unusually crowded that afternoon. Aside from the regular attendants, members from both Slytherin and Gryffindor Houses are there, including the Weasley cousins, who are gathered somewhat apart from the rest of their housemates, probably as they’re all secretly rooting for Scorpius to win. Jackson Abercrombie too stands far from the other lions, settled next to Rose and Louis. McGonagall, as well as Professors Flitwick, Longbottom and Higgs are there too, waiting for Professor Dawlish to begin the session.

“Alright, so today we have a special programme here at the Duelling Club, as we won’t start the session with the practical lesson, but we’ll dive directly to the duelling part. Young Tyler Langdon here has challenged Scorpius Malfoy to a duel, so without further ado, I call both contenders to present themselves at the centre of the room.”

A long elevated wooden platform, similar to a fencing piste, is built at the centre of the classroom, with stairs on both ends for contestants to climb. Scorpius and Tyler take a side each and get on the platform.

“Alright, gentlemen, salute,” Dawlish instructs, to which both boys hold their wands before their faces before swiftly putting them down to their sides, “you may begin the duel.”

Tyler wastes no time yelling his incantation but Scorpius is faster.

“ _Protego_!” he screams, producing a shield that bounces the opposing spell back to Tyler, who ducks to avoid being hit by it. When he does so, the sleeves of his robe climb up a little, revealing a small metallic bracelet on the boy’s left wrist. This gives Scorpius an idea.

“ _Wingardium leviosa_!” he yells as soon as the shield disappears, and hits Tyler squarely on the chest, lifting the boy off his feet. Scorpius directs his floating yelping opponent in the air with his wand and when his head is nearly bumping the ceiling, he points to the heavy iron candle chandelier hanging from it.

“ _Magneto_!” he exclaims pointing at the chandelier. Tyler is freefalling as soon as Scorpius’ attention is no longer directed at him, but the chandelier is suddenly imbued with strong magnetic energy and the boy is sent flying upwards once again pulled by the bracelet on his wrist. The metallic trinket adheres itself firmly on the iron ring and Tyler drops his wand in an effort to hold on to the chandelier with both hands, crying for help. Some students laugh as they see Tyler helplessly kicking the air.

“Tyler Langdon has dropped his wand and is no longer able to battle. Scorpius Malfoy wins the duel,” Dawlish declares, prompting an explosion of claps, and Scorpius smiles smugly.

“ _Finite Incantatem_!” McGonagall exclaims to remove the Magnetic Charm from the chandelier, “you can let go now, Mr. Langdon, I’ll cast a Hover Charm so you can float safely to the floor.”

Tyler shakes his head vigorously in refusal, causing more laughs from the audience.

“Mr. Langdon, I assure you I am quite capable of performing a Hover Charm, so you can let go of the chandelier and allow me to put you down,” McGonagall says with a hint of exasperation.

After a pause, filled with more laughter, Tyler finally releases his grip on the chandelier and McGonagall gently puts him down back on the raised platform.

“For showing exceptional duelling skills after mere months of magical training, I believe you just earned your House a hundred points, Mr. Malfoy.” McGonagall declares, triggering a burst of clapping and cheers from every Slytherin in the room, including Professor Higgs. Rose, Victoire and Dominique are clapping too and, while they’re not overtly cheering, James and all his Gryffindor cousins look quite happy. Jackson looks pleased too.

“And for performing a Levitation Charm powerful enough to raise something as heavy as a human, I am giving you another fifty points,” Flitwick adds, to the absolute elation of the Slytherins.

“And it should be noted that, unlike the majority of charms, transfiguration spells like the one you attempted, Mr. Langdon, need to be modified to work on people, which you would know, if you paid more attention to your classes instead of picking fights,” McGonagall scolds Tyler, who casts his eyes down in shame.

“Today was a good exercise,” she adds, “but, and this goes for everyone, duelling or challenging to a duel outside of Duelling Club is strictly prohibited and will be dealt with in the future with disciplinary measures, which can go from point deductions to expulsion, are we clear?” There’s a murmur of agreement.

“Good, then I believe we are finished here. Professor Dawlish, I leave you and your students to continue your session.”

“Thank you, Headmistress, and thank you, Scorpius, for such an enjoyable duel,” Professor Dawlish says. Scorpius beams.

 

“You were brilliant! Absolutely brilliant!” Albus exclaims hopping up and down as he, Rose and Louis take Scorpius to a well deserved afternoon by the Lake.

“Your Levitation Charm, it was incredible,” Rose adds, “I couldn’t believe it when you managed to lift Tyler all the way to the ceiling.”

“You nearly made him piss his trousers. So much for Gryffindor bravery,” Louis quips and they all laugh. Scorpius keeps silent, letting his broad smile do the talking for him as Albus envelops him in a one arm hug. He can’t believe he just survived his first ever duel and came out winning.

Before reaching the castle front doors, they are intercepted by a tall and handsome dark-skinned boy wearing a prefect badge over his Slytherin robes. Albus and Louis had met their fifth year prefect, Yvain Zabini, upon their arrival at Hogwarts, but they hadn’t had much contact with him. For his part, Scorpius and Yvain’s fathers were friends since their school years, making the two boys more than acquainted.

“Hello, Scorpius, can we talk?” he asks in a deep voice.

“Go ahead, I’ll catch up with you,” Scorpius tells his friends.

 

“I wanted to congratulate you for your performance at Duelling Club, not every first-year can pull of magic with the skill you did,” Yvain tells him when Albus, Rose and Louis leave for the Lake.

“Thank you, Yvain.”

“You get any more trouble from Langdon or anyone else, you come to me, got it?”

“Does it happen a lot?” Scorpius asks.

“From time to time, but us Slytherins take care of our own. The howlers are new, though.”

“Did they ever bother you?”

“Once or twice. My parents were never Death Eaters, neither were my grandparents, but sometimes carrying our House colours can be enough of a crime for some people. You might get it rougher, though, your grandfather was a prominent supporter of the Dark Lord, some even say his number one. But sometimes I wonder if the roles haven’t been reversed.”

“Our cross to bear, I guess.”

“Bollocks. We did none of that, we don’t get to be the price our parents pay. As I said, we take care of our own, and what you did today, standing up for Langdon, beating him, it was a powerful message. You did notice how the better part of the audience was on your side.” Scorpius nods with a faint smile. He hadn’t had the time to properly process the events at the Duelling Club, but he does remember getting the distinct feeling that everyone, from his housemates to the teachers to even some of the Gryffindors, were rooting for him.

“It was a good thing you did,” Yvain insists.

“Thanks, Yvain.”

“No. Thank you.”

 

Yvain was right. Things calm down after that day. The news of Scorpius’ performance at Duelling Club spreads like wildfire through the castle and the following days he is met with impressed looks from students of all years. More so, there seems to be a new atmosphere breathed at the castle, a bit more of inter-house fraternity. Longbottom and Higgs’ efforts to group them in mixed teams no longer feel forced and there seems to be a genuine cooperation between all Houses.

The howlers don’t stop coming, but Scorpius masters pretty quickly the Freezing Charm, and sometimes his classmates give him a heads up and yell “Howler!” the second they spot an owl carrying a bright red envelope during morning post delivery and Scorpius casts the charm before the letter even hits the table.

The news of the howlers reaches Rita Skeeter, who blasts a second bomb titled “Hogwarts after the War: death threats and underage duelling”, much to Rose’s indignation, but if anything, it seems to put in perspective the fact that kids are being threatened and the hate mail dies down somewhat after that.

When the school year ends, King’s Cross station receives a much more carefree Albus and a much happier Scorpius than the ones who boarded the train the year before. Albus is bursting with news about getting top marks in Flying and Scorpius beating everyone in Charms. Rose is still the best student overall. Louis, for his part, looks a little subdued when he follows his sisters to meet his parents.

“What’s wrong with him?” Harry asks.

“Oh, nothing, he’s probably down because he had a fight with Tamara Pembrock before taking the boats to the station,” Albus informs him.

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, she caught him snogging Lorelai O’Deluga inside the broom closet on the third floor.” Harry’s eyebrows shoot up.

“Snogging?” he sputters.

“Yeah, and he had snogged with Tamara not two days before.”

“They’re twelve!” Harry exclaims scandalised, “kids these days, seriously.” Albus laughs.

A few steps ahead, Draco and Astoria Malfoy are helping Scorpius unload his luggage.

“There’s only Hunter’s cage left inside, I’ll go get it,” the blond boy informs his parents as he heads back inside the train.

“Wait here,” Albus tells his dad and chases after his friend.

“Hey, Scorpius,” he says when he finds the other boy carrying a large birdcage where his eagle owl is perched, clearly annoyed by the crowded loud station and the constant movement.

“Hey, Al.”

“So, we’ve got this weird calendar at home to make sure we all spend time with all our families. The first week we stay at our homes, then we spend some time at the Burrow with Rose’s family, then they all come to ours at Godric’s Hollow. We also usually spend a week with aunt Hermione’s parents at Muggle London and well, you’re invited to all of that, if you want.” Scorpius raises a sceptical eyebrow.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, I owled my dad earlier this week, he said it was alright if you wanted to come. If your parents let you, of course.”

“Muggle London, are you real?”

“Yeah, and I’m sure you’ll love it. It’s not all beans and monkey bars.” Scorpius laughs. If Professor Thomas had taught him anything, it was that muggle life was definitely much more than monkey bars.

“I’ll make sure to tell my parents,” Scorpius promises.

“It’s a deal!” Albus exclaims before wrapping his friend in a tight hug, “I better go now, Lily must be getting impatient. Have fun this summer, and you better show your mug at some point!” and with that he runs back to the platform, where his mom and little sister are already there and James is talking non-stop about a prank he and Albus pulled on a sixth-year that had picked on Scorpius.

“And then the toilet seat followed him all the way to the lavatories,” James laughs and, despite themselves, so do his parents.

“Dear Merlin, these two are going to make mom’s nightmares about Hogwarts toilet seats come true,” Ginny says and Harry laughs louder.

“Such a family of miscreants, we are,” he agrees, “now come on, Ron is already in the car, any bets on how long he’ll last without turning to his wand?” Ginny slaps him half-heartedly on the arm, and James, Albus and Lily are already placing bets, Lily declaring thirty seconds.

As they cross through the barrier to Muggle London, Albus turns back to search for his friend, who is being hugged by his mom as his dad ruffles his hair. He waves at him and Scorpius waves back, a bright smile on his face. Albus knows he won’t be able to wait to see his best mate again.


	2. Muggle Marvels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Scorpius is twelve years old, he discovers his dream profession, and it isn’t exactly one his father would have picked for him.

The first word Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy says when he’s one year old is “Dad”, much to his father’s infinite pride and delight. His second word is “Mom”, which makes Astoria Malfoy realise there was a whole range of emotions she hadn’t had access to until that very moment. His third word is spoken as a clear demand when he tugs on his father’s robes and tries to snatch away from him the hawthorn and unicorn hair stick poking out of his pocket: “Wand!”.

Scorpius’ first signs of magic come when he’s five years old, well before the average age of seven. During a particularly tense Christmas dinner at the manor with all his grandparents, the sound of voices singing from Scorpius’ room gets the attention from the adults at the table, who rush upstairs, their wands at the ready. They are surprised to find that, while little Scorpius picked on his dinner and listened to the clatter of silverware against the plates in the otherwise silent dining room, he had managed to enchant all his stuffed animals to sing Christmas carols, a performance that doesn’t stop until it’s well past midnight and Scorpius is fast asleep. Very few things can make Draco and Astoria’s parents look at each other with pride and happiness, and Scorpius’ impromptu concert is one of them.

It is also at the age of five when Scorpius begins his basic education under the tutelage of renowned governess Madame Selwyn. The strict but gentle woman teaches Scorpius how to read using a fancy illustrated edition of _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_ , and to count using a big enchanted toy dice whose faces display different numbers every time it’s tossed.

Scorpius is also taught a bit of wizarding history during the years that precede his departure to Hogwarts, and while Beatrice Selwyn wasn’t a sympathiser of Lord Voldemort during the two Wars, she had still been raised with many purity beliefs taught among the members of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, which permeate into the history Scorpius learns.

The version of the facts surrounding the Wizarding Wars that Scorpius learns is a mixed one: Draco and Astoria Malfoy do their best to make him understand the errors of the Death Eater’s ways, and Draco doesn’t hide the part he played during the Second War, a confession that convinces Scorpius his father is the bravest man alive. But the notion of pure-blood superiority is still passed on to him, mostly because it’s the only worldview his parents know and, being raised in a magical household, wizard’s superiority sounds only logical: how can non-magical people achieve the level of refinement and civilisation found at the Malfoy Manor without access to magic, after all?

By the time he’s eleven Scorpius knows how to play the piano, how to handle himself at most social occasions and the basics of French. He also understands a few things: magic exists, there are magical and non-magical people, wizards and muggles. Muggles can have magical kids; wizards can have non-magical children. Mistreating or abusing muggle-borns, muggles and squibs is wrong, but still, there are privileges that come from being a pure-blooded wizard. He also understands being a Malfoy nullifies most of those privileges.

The one he laments the most is the company of kids his own age. He loves and admires his father and cherishes the times he takes him flying across the grounds of the Malfoy State, and is always happy helping his mother with her gardening and discussing every topic under the sun with her. The house-elves also keep him good company and spoil him rotten with treats and smuggled Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans, but still, life can be lonely at Malfoy Manor.

There is no doubt on Draco Malfoy’s mind as the train at platform nine and three-quarters takes his only son away to begin his Hogwarts education that Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy will grow up to be everything the Malfoy family ever hoped for: smart, elegant, talented, skilled in various fields and the very epitome of a respectable traditional pure-blooded wizard.

He could not have been more wrong.

 

“This is it,” Scorpius says when he and his father arrive at the large residence at the end of a quiet and ample lane at the edges of Godric’s Hollow. It’s almost noon in the middle of July and the young blond boy can’t wait so see his best mate again. The house before them is big without looking uninviting. It possesses the quaint look the rest of the town does but it doesn’t look neither old nor out of shape. It’s got two stories with three large windows on the top floor and only two on the ground level, as the one in the middle is replaced by an elegant wooden door. The front porch is accessible by a cobbled path between two patches of neatly mowed lawn surrounded by small bushes and there is a park bench on either side of the path as well as a lone tree planted in the lawn. Next to the house there’s a garage with a wide driveway that connects it to the street. There are gable roofs on the main building, the front porch and the room above the garage and shutters on all the windows. The neighbourhood looks peaceful and friendly and the streets are clean. So far, the location hasn’t given Draco Malfoy any concerns about leaving his son there for the better part of his summer vacation, not that he doesn’t have some.

“Come on,” Scorpius urges him as he takes him by the hand to lead him along the cobbled path to the front door, his other hand on the strap of the overstuffed backpack slung on his shoulder. The boy rings the doorbell and patiently waits for the door to open.

It’s Harry Potter who opens the door to find the two blond men with identical eyes and similar features standing on his porch like a collection of matryoshka dolls.

“Draco, Scorpius, I’m glad you could make it,” he greets them and opens the door wider to allow the two visitors inside his home.

“Hello, Mr. Potter,” Scorpius says politely, still unsure to walk inside as he’s fully aware of his father standing firmly on the front step like he’s grown roots. He knows, despite his dad’s neutral face and Mr. Potter’s politeness, that this must be a difficult moment for the two adults. Before the situation can get awkward, though, a succession of rapid steps is heard on the wooden stairs and soon a boy with an unruly mop of jet black hair is running towards the door.

“Scorpius!” the boy roars and the face of utter delight on his friend is enough to make Scorpius’ reservations fade so he runs to Albus, who greets him with a bone-crushing hug. The evident state of glee in the two young boys is enough to break the tension that had accumulated in every one of Draco’s muscles. A small smile creeps involuntarily on his face as he finally steps inside the Potter residence.

“We missed you at the Burrow, and you missed the massive Quidditch game we had at Victoire’s graduation party,” Albus says, “she loved your present, by the way. Now, come on, I’ll show you the broom my dad got me for school. Did you bring yours?” Scorpius turns to his father, who rolls his eyes and materialises the broom he had concealed during their journey with a silent flick of his wand.

“Here. Now try not to destroy Albus’ house, he was gracious enough to invite you spend the break with him,” he admonishes his son, who eagerly takes the broom from him and lets himself be dragged away to the back yard by Albus.

“Come on, let’s get you some tea,” Harry says as he motions Draco to the kitchen.

The Potter kitchen is everything the Malfoy’s is not. While it’s not cramped by any extent, it’s not the white, cold marble room they have at the manor; instead, it is cosy and warm, with a tea kettle already burning on the stove, next to a pot magically stirring itself. Draco can see that, aside from the magical household items scattered around the room, like the clock with five hands that displays the current location of each family member, there are also many electrical appliances, like a microwave, a small television on a counter and a fridge.

“Muggle appliances?” Draco asks.

“This is a part-muggle town, electricity does work here, so we’ve got the basics, you know, television, telephone, washing machine, though Ginny enchanted that one to spit the clothes already sorted and folded. Albus also has his own laptop.”

Draco nods, though he really can’t tell what half the things that came out of Potter’s mouth mean, even if he can pretty much roughly figure out what a washing machine does. He choses to remain silent and take a seat instead.

“Here,” Harry says offering him a cup of tea before turning to rummage through the cupboards under the sink. “I know we have some French pastries Fleur brought with her from her last visit to her family,” he says as he stands up to search in the upper cabinets. “Nope, not here. Kreacher!”

With a loud pop, a really old house-elf appears. Draco can barely recognise him but he knows he’s looking at his aunt’s Bellatrix former family elf. He looks certainly older, but far more energetic than the last time he saw him. He looks well-fed and there are no signs of physical abuse on him, which is a given if he’s working for the Potters. He’s also wearing a clean, elegant brown suit, that fits him as if it’d been tailored for him. There’s a silver chain escaping from his breast pocket, as if there were a pocket watch inside.

“Yes, Mr. Potter?” _Mister_ , not _Master_ , Draco notes.

“Have you seen the pastries Fleur brought? I can’t seem to find them anywhere.” At the question, Kreacher casts his eyes to the floor, clearly afraid to answer.

“James ate them, didn’t he?” Harry guesses and Kreacher gives the faintest of nods. “Oh, well,” Harry shrugs, “I guess we’ll have to make do with something from Honeydukes,” he says as he turns to the cupboard to reach for a box of biscuits. “Thank you, Kreacher.” With a slight reverence and a loud pop, the elf is gone.

“Your elf is wearing clothes,” Draco points out as if he’s unsure Harry is aware.

“Fit him nicely, don’t they?” Harry replies offering the biscuits to Draco.

“Why?” Draco asks and Harry’s face suddenly becomes really serious.

“I certainly hope your house-elves are not being kept in slavery.”

“Oh, come off it, they’re being paid. Above minimum wage, too. It’s just that I don’t know what they do with the money they’re given, but they certainly don’t use it for clothes.”

“Oh,” Harry shrugs, “even though elves are now protected by the laws Hermione’s been pushing, most of them are still not comfortable owning clothes. I think they still associate the concept with failure and punishment. But Kreacher’s used to them by now. He’s got a way soberer style than Dobby had, but I guess that’s because he learned elegance at the Black’s.”

“Dobby was ours,” Draco says, pointing with his eyes at his perfectly stylish dress robes and at Harry’s baggy muggle t-shirt. Harry laughs.

“Yeah, well, he was a revolutionary, that one. And somehow seemed to believe socks were meant to be of different colours,” he remembers fondly.

At that moment Albus and Scorpius come zooming through the door.

“Dad, Scorpius’ got the new Firebolt Supreme!” Albus informs his father excitedly, “and the speed is unbelievable! It’s like riding a dragon, I swear.” Harry laughs.

“Is that so? That sure makes me want to buy you one.” Draco snorts while Albus pouts.

“You could take a ride on it, Mr. Potter, see that it’s completely safe,” Scorpius offers.

“Unless you think you’re too rusty for that,” Albus says as he reaches for a biscuit.

“Why is it that all my kids use their friends to gang up on me? It’s the same thing with James and Teddy, I’m kinda dreading sending Lily to Hogwarts,” Harry complains. Albus just shrugs before offering his biscuit to Scorpius and taking another one for himself.

They hear the front door open followed by loud steps making their way to the living room.

“James is here!” Albus announces and he and Scorpius leave to greet him. “And Teddy!” Albus yells once he gets to the living room.

“I should get going,” Draco notes as he stands up, “but first, here are the rules: his bedtime is at eleven, don’t let him tell you otherwise, he’s not allowed to go anywhere without an adult, I trust you’ll feed him something other than the junk I saw you and Weasley stuff yourselves with for six years and finally, I know you are taking him with you to visit Granger’s parents at Muggle London.”

“That’s right,” Harry confirms.

“Scorpius’ told me about the monkey bars. He is under no circumstance allowed to climb the monkey bars.”

Harry makes a strong effort not to laugh at Draco’s concern. He should be used by now to wizards fixating on the weirdest and most random things about muggle life (Arthur Weasley is still a father figure to him, after all), but monkey bars are a new one.

“We send our kids to a school where they are taught to ride flying broomsticks fifty feet above ground at the age of eleven and you’re worried about the monkey bars,” he deadpans, “that five-year-olds climb.” Draco closes his eyes and lets out an exasperated breath.

“Alright, alright, no monkey bars, I promise.”

“I know I sound strict, but I believe in discipline, and he’s a Malfoy, you know how his last name can put him at risk.”

“I promise he’ll be safe, Draco, you have my word.”

“Good. I’m off then. I’ll pick him off once their Hogwarts letters arrive with their booklists.”

Harry walks Draco to the door and they run into James and Teddy on their way. They’re wrestling on the living room floor fighting for the latest issue of _Quidditch Monthly_. Teddy gains the upper hand and takes off to the back yard with the magazine firmly in his grasp. James wastes no time chasing the older boy.

“Hi, Harry!” Teddy calls as he runs by.

“Hi, dad!” James says too and then he’s gone.

Harry expects to hear another comment on discipline from Draco, but he finds the other man’s eyes suddenly overcome with sadness. That’s when he realises Draco and Teddy are actually cousins and they probably have little to no contact. The longing in Draco’s eyes, however, is gone in a flash and the man turns his attention to the couch, where Scorpius and Albus are sitting, and proceeds to say goodbye to his son.

 

Once Draco leaves, Harry instructs Albus to show Scorpius to his room, where a roll away bed has been set up next to Albus’ bed. Scorpius immediately likes the green walls and the Quidditch posters all around the room.

“Hagrid wasn’t joking about the Gonçalo Flores posters,” he notes.

“Oh, shut up,” Albus snaps, “you can leave your things here. Come, on, I’ll show you something cool.”

Scorpius drops his backpack on the floor and follows his friend to the bedside table, where a live model Hungarian Horntail is animatedly flapping its wings.

“What is that?”

“A souvenir from the Triwizard Tournament my dad entered. I liked it so much my dad let me have it.”

“It’s awesome,” Scorpius agrees taking the miniature black dragon and placing it on his palm, who bit his thumb in an apparently friendly gesture.

The two boys proceed to catch up on what they were up to during the first part of their break sprawled on the beds and eating Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans, until Albus turns to the clock on his bedside table and jumps off the bed in a rush.

“It’s almost four o’clock in Moscow! Come on,” he urges Scorpius to get off the bed and follow him downstairs to the living room.

“What’s going on?” Scorpius asks.

“The World Cup Final! It’s about to begin!” Albus explains eagerly.

“The World Cup is still going on, and it’s not even in Moscow,” Scorpius replies confused.

“Not the Quidditch World Cup, the Football World Cup!”

“Oh, the sport with one ball and no brooms,” Scorpius says, suddenly disappointed.

“Come on, give it a chance, I’m sure you’ll love it.”

Scorpius does give football a chance, and tries to pay attention to the game between Germany and Brazil that Albus has tuned in on the weird moving box in the living room. It’s not a difficult task, because the sport doesn’t lack appeal. Even though nobody is airborne, Scorpius does find himself following the ball and the players running after it. Albus doesn’t cheer for Brazil (which is the biggest surprise so far), but for the white-clad German team, which in the end wins the match 2 goals to 1, a stark contrast to the previous Quidditch World Cup Final score of 170-60 (and which Brazil lost too).

“So, in football, twenty-two men chase a ball for 90 minutes …” Scorpius recapitulates at the end of the match.

“And the Germans always win,” Albus concludes with a huge smile on his face, happy the team he cheered for won for once.

There are commercials on, which show Scorpius many aspects of muggle life that he doesn’t think the Muggle Studies programme will be able to cover in seven years, then a music video starts, featuring a blonde attractive woman with curly hair singing and dancing moving her belly and hips in ways Scorpius never thought possible.

“How can she move like that?” he asks bewildered.

“Oh, that’s Shakira, every World Cup has its own official song, by different artists, sometimes more than one, but lately she’s been doing most of them,” Albus explains.

“Sharika? How’s that a name?”

“Shakira, and it’s probably just an artistic name, I don’t know if it’s the real one.”

“Her moves are unreal. Hey, who is that?” Scorpius asks pointing at the bald guy who’s joined the singer on the screen.

“That’s Pitbull, again, don’t ask me what his real name is.”

“The song’s catchy,” Scorpius says, mesmerised by the moving pictures on the television.

 

The whole stay at the Potters is like entering another dimension for Scorpius, even though there’s enough magic around and many magical objects, Albus’ family seems to have assimilated many aspects of muggle life. He finally comes face to face with the telephone Professor Thomas talked about in class, and even makes a call to Rose, following Albus’ detailed instructions. Albus also teaches him how to make pop-corn in the microwave and use a blender to make a smoothie.

But the biggest cultural shock comes, as could be expected, from Albus’ laptop.

“So you tap here … and this opens Safari,” Albus explains and, to his friend’s raised eyebrow, he adds, “an internet browser.”

“Safari? Browser?” Scorpius asks looking at the bright multicoloured words on the screen, “and what the hell is Google?”

“It’s the answer to everything. You can search anything here. Look.” Albus explains as he types “World Cup official songs”.

They spend the day listening to various songs on a thing Albus calls YouTube, which also shows them moving images to go along with the music, from a British song from the sixties named “World Cup Willie” to something called “Waka Waka” that Scorpius enjoys a lot. Scorpius is impressed by how many devices, however big or small, can display moving, talking images, some of them even in real time. But their photographs still don’t move. Absurd.

Albus also teaches Scorpius the basics of football, and Scorpius can’t pretend he doesn’t enjoy it. Though he is clumsy at first with the ball, he gets the hang of it pretty quickly, much to James’ dismay.

“Great, now there’s two of them,” he complains to Teddy when he sees them kicking the ball back and forth.

Still, playing goalkeeper is an excellent practice for Scorpius, as he intends to try out for Keeper once the school year begins. He and Albus spend an entire afternoon switching places at their makeshift goal and by the time they play a Quaffle-only Quidditch match against James and Teddy, Scorpius manages to block most of the older boys’ shots.

The internet becomes an obsession for Scorpius. He discovers he can really find almost anything online. He asks the Google about the weirdest and most obscure things he can think of, from spider species in Africa to Bulgarian art and culture from the fourteenth century. Meanwhile, Albus snickers every time Scorpius says “the Google”.

Scorpius discovers American football (“must Americans really have to have their own version of everything?” he asks, seeing the parallel with Quodpot) and with it comes the discovery of the Super Bowl halftime shows, which becomes a life-altering experience.

“How can they do that without magic? Look! The image on the floor is changing!” he asks bewildered.

“It’s a screen, it’s as if we flipped the television over and stood on it, but the screen is way larger.”

“And how did she changed clothes so fast without transfiguring them? I always thought fireworks needed magic to work. And what on Earth is that shark doing?”

Still, there’s plenty of magic at the Potter household. Harry’s hand on the kitchen clock is almost always in mortal peril, which, Ginny says, has been the case since he was eleven years old. Albus and James capitalise on the fact that Teddy is no longer underage to have him summon the Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes their mother confiscated or to float jugs filled with butterbeer through James’ bedroom window.

The four of them spend many afternoons either at Albus’ room or at James’, they catch Teddy up on what went on during the previous year at Hogwarts and Teddy is bummed to learn that during the two years he’s been out, Hufflepuff managed to win the House Cup twice in a row for the first time in nearly a decade, and he wasn’t there to see it.

When the time comes for them to visit the Grangers, Albus lends Scorpius some of his muggle clothes, the soberer ones that Scorpius doesn’t refuse to wear, and Ginny charms them to make them fit the boy’s taller frame. Then the six of them use the Floo Network to 12 Grimmauld Place in London and drive in Harry’s car from there to Hermione’s parent’s house.

It’s the first time Scorpius rides in a car and he immediately dislikes it. It makes him dizzy and he flinches every time he sees a car driving in the opposite direction. Albus puts a firm hand on his knee to keep it from bouncing and Scorpius lets out a sigh of relieve when Harry announces they’ve reached their destination.

If the small snippets of muggle life at the Potters come as a cultural shock, that is nothing, nothing, compared to the seven days spent at Mr. and Mrs. Granger’s house. Everything is electric, even the fireplaces, none of the pictures move and absolutely nothing is done with magic. There are no house-elves, pots don’t magically self-stir and no Quidditch is played as brooms are used for sweeping (albeit, much, much cheaper ones).

The Grangers are no strangers to magic, as proven when Hermione casts a Mending Charm on a flowerpot Hugo breaks, but still, wands make very few appearances during their stay.

Harry takes some of the money Scorpius’ father gave him and has it changed to muggle money, so they can buy things in London, and Scorpius immediately requests Albus takes him to a clothing store to get items more to his liking. Wizard or muggle, Scorpius proves Malfoy tastes are expensive.

They all go to the movies to watch the recently released _Aquaman_ , making Scorpius question once again how can anything be done without magic.

“How can he breathe underwater?”

“He can’t, it’s all a special effect,” Rose explains.

“But how?”

When they get home, Mr. Granger shows him a video on YouTube about the making of a movie. Scorpius is at first disappointed that everything is fake, but then marvels at all the tricks employed to make explosions, superpowers and even magic look real.

Another eye-opener is the smartphone, which blows Scorpius away with its messaging possibilities, location services and games. He discovers he likes Plants vs. Zombies but gets annoyed with Angry Birds.

It’s the smartphone what frustrates him the most, too. He quickly sees the advantages of having one over most of wizarding ways of communication: it’s fast, it’s portable, it’s discrete, it has multiple uses and access to the internet. You can use it as a map, a calendar or a notepad. The frustrating part comes when Harry explains to him he can’t buy one because and adult has to sign the contract for the phone deal and, even if his father bought him one, he couldn’t take it to Hogwarts because the magic there would make it blow up, same as the laptop.

Harry takes all the kids to a nearby park, where James, Lily, Hugo and Rose play in the slides and swings while Albus and Scorpius join some kids in a football game. Scorpius sees the monkey bars and confirms there are effectively no monkeys on them.

 

Draco Malfoy shows up at the Potter’s to pick up his son the morning after their Hogwarts letters arrive. The owls found them at the Grangers and that evening they all went back to Godric’s Hollow.

“Hello, Draco,” Harry greets animatedly, the time spent with Scorpius making him forget for a moment the usual tension between the two men, “come in, Scorpius is playing with Albus at the backyard.”

Draco was not ready for the image that greets him once he steps outside the Potter’s back door. His son and Albus Potter, running around chasing a ball, using their legs to wrestle it away from the other. The Scorpius manages to take the ball for himself and lead it with his feet to the farthest end of the yard before sending it flying between two rocks with a strong kick.

“SCOOOOOOOORE!!!!!” his son roars.

Draco’s been stunned into silence, Harry glances at him with an amused smile.

“Oh, yeah, Albus taught him how to play football.”

“Football,” Draco repeats in disbelief, “how primitive.”

“We hurl flying cannonballs at people on flying broomsticks for sport,” Harry reminds him, “and we love every second of it.”

Draco looks like he wants to object further, but his son’s face is bright with joy and it beams even brighter when he spots his father.

“Dad! Albus taught me how to play football! And we went to Muggle London and you won’t believe the things you find there!” he eagerly tells his dad once he reaches him, his face glistening with sweat and sporting smudges of dirt, but his grin wide across his face.

“Did you, now?” Draco asks. “You can tell me all about it on our trip to Diagon Alley.”

“You know, we are going there this afternoon too, maybe he and Albus could meet there.” The boys’ ears perk up at that and Draco knows he won’t be able to say no to his son.

“Sounds like a plan,” he replies, his tone conveying the exact opposite. If possible, Scorpius’ smile grows even bigger.

 

After a quick trip home, for Scorpius to drop off his things and get cleaned up, Draco is with his wife and kid at the overcrowded Diagon Alley. His son is still talking about sugar glass and fake explosions and Draco still can’t wrap his head around the fact that his son is marvelled by the muggle world.

At home he saw the muggle clothes he bought, which were, admittedly, stylish enough for Malfoy standards, along with a small rectangular device with a two-headed plastic chord attached to it to which Scorpius referred to as an eye-pod, whatever that means. The concept of movies is also confusing.

“I thought their pictures didn’t move,” he says.

“Their photographs don’t, weirdly enough, but pictures in movies do,” Scorpius explains.

“Alright, so let’s get moving so you can meet with Albus at Florean Fortescue’s at five o’clock. Let’s start with the books, let me see your letter.”

He unfolds the piece of parchment his son hands him and reads.

Second year students will require:

 _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2_ , by Miranda Goshawk  
_Magical Water Plants of the Mediterranean_ , by Hadrian Whittle  
_My Life as a Muggle_ , by Daisy Hookum

PARENTS ARE INFORMED THAT MAILING HOWLERS TO STUDENTS IS NO LONGER PERMITTED.

That final line makes Draco exhale a sigh of relief as he goes again over the booklist

“ _My Life as a Muggle_? What the …?”

“That must be for Professor Thomas’ class. He’s our Muggle Studies teacher,” Scorpius reasons.

“I figured as much,” Draco mutters, still not taking his eyes of the list, as if he somehow expected the piece of parchment to reveal itself to be a prank and show the real booklist if he stares real hard.

“The class is actually very interesting,” Scorpius offers.

“One thing is to learn about them, but this sounds like encouragement to live the way of the —”

“It’s more like putting yourself in their shoes, like, seeing the world through their eyes or something like that,” Scorpius explains and his father sighs. He tries very had to see the world differently from the way his father did, but some things really challenge his willingness to adapt. Besides him, his wife takes his hand in encouragement.

“Alright, what else is on the list?” Draco asks as he takes another look at the parchment, “ _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2_ , well, that’s a given. _Magical Water Plants of the Mediterranean_?”

“That’s for Herbology.”

“Longbottom sure seems to be getting innovative with the programme,” Draco muses.

Flourish and Blotts is bursting with people when they get there, and Scorpius disappears from their sight the second they walk through the door. Draco usually dreads walking into crowded public places, but everyone’s so busy buying their books that people barely pay attention to their surroundings. Astoria’s presence is also soothing enough.

After some navigating, Draco finds the book he’s looking for on a shelf near the back of the store. The cover is red and features the picture woman with auburn hair and round-framed glasses. The picture isn’t moving, Draco notes as he turns the book on its back.

“ _My Life as a Muggle_ , personal account of one witch’s year without magic,” he reads on the back cover before flipping through it. None of the pictures inside move. Not one. He hands it to Astoria, who also examines it.

“Looks … interesting,” she says.

“Found it?” Scorpius asks as he appears on the aisle carrying a little shopping basket that contains quite more books than the ones listed on his letter.

“Looks like we did,” Draco replies as he hands the red volume to his son.

“Brilliant!” Scorpius exclaims as he places the book on his basket, apparently not noticing, or not fazed by, the lack of movement on the cover photograph. “Now all I need are my books for Herbology and Charms and we’re done.”

“Are any of those books you’re carrying from the list you got?”

“Sure,” Scorpius grins as he picks the one his father just handed him. Draco rolls his eyes but indulges his son as they go in search for the rest of the _required_ books.

When they exit the store Scorpius spots a girl with bright red hair accompanied by an elder couple.

“Look! There’s Rose!” he exclaims as he runs towards the trio and Draco realises the girl in question is being escorted by her grandparents, her two muggle grandparents. He watches form a distance and sees his son wrap the girl, Rose, in a firm hug, which is answered in kind by his friend. The girl looks genuinely happy to see Scorpius and Draco wonders if she’s aware of the hell he put her mother through during their school years, if she’s aware of what happened to her the only time she was at the manor.

The young friends say goodbye and Rose and the Grangers head over to Madam Malkin’s while Scorpius walks back to where his parents are waiting for him.

“That was my friend Rose,” he explains.

“I figured as much. Were those her grandparents?”

“Yes.”

“Aren’t they muggle?”

“Yes, but they’ve come here enough times, since Rose’s mom went to Hogwarts and all.”

“I’m surprised they could see the entrance.”

“I guess they can if a wizard shows them the way,” Scorpius shrugs.

“I guess.”

They get the rest of Scorpius’ supplies, including food and care items for Hunter, Keeper gloves and brand new glass phials. Afterwards they head to Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour where Scorpius’ meets with Albus, James and Rose. At another table, Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione are sitting with Lily and Hugo, while a bunch of red-headed kids are assembled in a corner. The door opens behind Draco and Teddy Lupin arrives with Victoire, followed by Dominique and Louis. Dominique quickly goes to where most of the Weasleys are, while Louis makes his way to the table where his son is sitting.

“I’ll go give Molly her present for becoming Head Girl,” Victoire says before placing a kiss on Teddy’s cheek and greeting Draco and Astoria with a polite nod.

“I should probably go thank the Potters for taking Scorpius in,” Astoria says, leaving a reluctant Draco alone with his cousin. They both stand awkwardly at the parlour’s entrance, blocking the way for the people going in and out, until Teddy finally breaks the silence.

“I met Scorpius,” he says, “at Harry’s. He’s a great bloke.”

“You go there a lot? Harry’s?” Draco asks.

“Well, you know, I’m good friends with James, and Harry’s my godfather.”

Draco doesn’t scream _And I am your cousin!_ like he wants to, but he knows Teddy knows he’s thinking the words.

“You know, I could … I mean, if you want to, I —”

“Astoria and I would love it,” Draco says curtly.

Teddy offers him his hand and the two men share an uncomfortable handshake before Teddy leaves to join Victoire and the Weasleys. When he’s left alone, Draco realises the only thing left to do is join his wife and the Potters … and Granger … and Weasley.

“Harry was just telling me Scorpius seemed to have a lot of fun with Albus this summer,” Astoria says when Draco finally steels himself and approaches the adult table.

“I’m glad to hear it. Scorpius was just telling us all about his adventures at Muggle London.”

“There were no monkey bars, I swear,” Harry promises.

“He brought home an eye-pod,” Draco says, “I still don’t know what that means.”

“It’s for listening to music, Albus and James filled it with their favourites,” Harry explains. Besides him, Ginny, Ron and Hermione are completely silent, clearly not wanting to make the awkward, but so far polite, encounter any more uncomfortable. Hermione cleans Hugo’s chin with a napkin and Ron studies the menu on the wall like he’s gonna present an O.W.L. about it. Ginny is studying Astoria, looking for any signs of falseness in her demeanour, so far finding none.

“And apparently, we have to make a trip to Qatar in four years from now,” Draco continues. Harry laughs.

“Probably for the World Cup. Albus is really into football. The only one in the family, really.” Ron looks like he really wants to make a comment on boring ground-level sports, but refrains from doing so.

The Malfoys says their goodbyes not long after. Scorpius and Albus can’t seem to wait the week left before they take the Hogwarts Express and take a long while to tear away from each other. Back at home, Scorpius shows off his iPod to his parents. Draco instantly dislikes the buds blocking his ears and the strident teenage music they pour into them, but Astoria seems to find it marvellous.

“Oh, imagine if I could get the Weird Sisters’ songs in there. It would be lovely to hear them while I do my gardening. Probably with a good enough charm …” she muses. Scorpius’ eyes light up at that.

“A charm could make it work at Hogwarts,” he blurts in sudden realisation.

“I doubt that’s the case,” Draco says.

“Why not? We use some muggle inventions, don’t we? Like the radio.”

“Well, yes, but it would require a terribly complicated spell.”

“You’re probably right,” Scorpius concedes disappointed. At that moment, one of the house-elves appears to announce dinner is ready.

“Hey, Blinky, listen to this!” Scorpius calls as he hands the iPod to the puzzled elf. Blinky is immediately wary of the music-whispering serpents shoved inside his ears.

 

Scorpius’ iPod is safely tucked inside his socks on his way to Hogwarts on September first. They arrive on a Saturday night and they have an entire day free before classes begin, so Scorpius decides it’s a good time to try to listen to his new iPod. The device explodes in his hands the second he presses play. He is incredibly disappointed.

“I’ll get you a new one,” Albus promises placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, but Scorpius is not assuaged. He saw way too many things at Muggle London that could completely change the wizarding world. It goes beyond an iPod or a videogame, and he vows to himself to find a way to make muggle technology work at Hogwarts.

 

Scorpius knows, theoretically, that getting a top-notch magical education is a step towards his newly set goal, but he still groans when Professor Flitwick hands them their schedules during breakfast Monday morning. Flying lessons are gone, but they now have three hours of Potions a week instead of two and four hours of Transfiguration instead of three. Thursdays seem particularly dreadful with double Potions before lunch, double Transfiguration afterwards and Astronomy at midnight. That day’s only saving grace is Charms first thing in the morning. They still have five free periods a week, but Scorpius guesses, accurately, that they’ll be mostly used to catch up on their schoolwork.

They have Charms Mondays, Tuesdays and Thursdays and the first thing they learn that week is the Mending Charm. For the first time ever, Scorpius fails at getting the spell right on the first go when he tries to repair his broken iPod.

“A magic overload caused the damage, a magic overload won’t fix it,” Flitwick explains, “why don’t you try mending the broken cups I gave you?”

Scorpius tries and gets it done effortlessly, the scattered porcelain pieces glue themselves together to form a bright green cup that looks like it was never broken in the first place. Flitwick rewards him with twenty points instead of the ten he usually hands out, probably to make up for the sheer disappointment on Scorpius’ face.

Their first Muggle Studies class is on Wednesday during second period. As soon as the class is over, Scorpius presents Professor Thomas with his broken iPod.

“I want to make it work at Hogwarts,” he declares.

“That looks like it’s broken,” Thomas notes.

“Well, not this one then, but another iPod, or a mobile phone, or a computer.”

“I don’t think that’s possible, Scorpius.”

“What about the radio? Or the megaphones they use at Quidditch games?”

“Those megaphones don’t work, they’re just the empty shells of muggle megaphones, with no electronic components whatsoever, spelled with an Amplifying Charm,” the teacher explains.

“And what about the Knight Bus? That’s an actual bus, isn’t it? Just magically modified. And I know there are flying motorcycles.”

“Where did you learn all this?”

“I went to Muggle London this summer.” This seems to surprise Thomas, he never imagined those words ever coming out of a Malfoy.

“I see. Look, you’re not the first wizard to come face to face with the muggle lifestyle and try to bring everything he sees to the wizarding world. But truth is, it never really ends well.”

“I’m not talking about charming muggle trinkets and making them dance on a desk as a novelty, I’m talking about actual useful applications for this technology. Muggle kids my age type a few words on their phones and have everything they need to write their papers for school, they don’t have to spend hours with their nose buried in a book trying to find an obscure line they can use for their homework. We could actually learn more things, if we had such technology. And faster.”

“Sometimes I wonder why you’re not in Ravenclaw,” Thomas points out.

“Because I am driven by ambition and not the pursuit of a higher intellectual ground,” Scorpius recites automatically, as if he had the words memorised. Truth is, he’s had that same discussion with Rose several times before. Professor Thomas chuckles in amusement.

“Look, I don’t know exactly how you could make that iPod work in a magic charged environment like Hogwarts, much less a computer with internet access, and it won’t be as useful as you think since there aren’t any websites with information on the things you need to research for homework. You cannot type ‘Wolfsbane Potion’ and have the recipe flash on the screen.”

Scorpius hadn’t thought about that.

“But if it really means that much to you, I’m sure Professor Flitwick could help you find a way to make an electronic device work, so you can at least listen to your music.”

 

Scorpius decides not to approach his Charms teacher until he has done more research on the subject. He figures, being the Head of Ravenclaw House, the man would be more inclined to help him if he shows some intellectual initiative. He doesn’t begin right away, though, as second-year classes prove to have an increased level of difficulty in nearly all subjects.

“This year we’ll have our first approach at Conjuration,” Professor Macmillan explains during their Transfiguration lessons that year, “which is to say, the art of bringing things into being,” he demonstrates by flicking his wand and making appear an entire table set on his desk, complete with a red velvet tablecloth and a silver candelabra holding two lit candles on it, to the awe and amusement of the class, then he makes it disappear with another elegant wand movement, leaving the wooden desk barren once again.

“Of course, it will be a while before you can conjure objects out of thin air, as most Conjuration is N.E.W.T. level magic, but this year we’ll focus on producing small manifestations of energy, which is something you’ve been able to do since the day you purchased your wand,” Macmillan explains, “only this time it will be much more deliberate,” he adds and illustrates producing a small show of fireworks that draw the school’s coat of arms in the air.

“I expect you to get a handle on conjuring fire before winter break, and later on we’ll move on to rays and thunders. Your final exam will consist in a small show of light and colour of your own creation.”

Then they all proceed to try to light a candle in the magically fireproofed classroom, which is a struggle for everyone.

Scorpius’ research is postponed too because the second week rolls by and with it comes the time for Quidditch tryouts. Scorpius, Albus and and some other students from their House assemble in the Quidditch pitch to warm up and practice a bit before Yvain Zabini, sixth year prefect and Quidditch captain, begins the trials.

As it’s been the norm at the Slytherin House for years, all positions are open and even returning players, except for the captain, must show up to defend their position. Beater hopefuls are the first to be called. They’re handed bats and thrown enchanted balls that weigh as much as a Bludger but don’t move on their own and are instead directed by a potent Hover Charm. Aspirants must beat them away while standing on the ground and the ones deemed apt enough for the task are then tested with the real balls, on their brooms.

Next are the Chasers, who must fight for only two available spots as Yvain already holds one of them. Albus and fellow second-years Tamara Pembrock and Andrew Dunbar are among the students aiming to put their name on those spots.

Once again, they must first go through a test on the ground, where they throw and catch long passes, and then are told to do the same while airborne, as well as take some shots at the goalposts. Albus makes a pretty decent job at catching the Quaffle and zooming away with it before hurling it towards the goal. His aim is not as good as his speed, but is accurate enough.

Then it’s Scorpius and the rest of the Keeper hopefuls’ turn to present themselves at the pitch. Albus aggressively claps on Scorpius’ shoulders to make him relieve some tension as his friend hums a song under his breath.

“Here we go … That’s all we know … So here we go … That’s all we know.” Albus snorts.

“Is that one of the World Cup songs?” he asks amused.

“It pumps me up,” Scorpius defends.

“Hey, whatever works for you,” Albus says holding his hands up, “now go get them.”

Just like the Chasers, Keepers are asked to catch long passes before climbing on their brooms to defend the goalposts. Football and Quidditch practice during the summer seems to pay off, as Scorpius is able to catch every single Quaffle thrown at him, to the claps and cheers of the audience. Anthony Pucey, fifth-year and starting Keeper, looks both impressed and fearful for his position in the team.

When Scorpius hops off his broom, Albus congratulates him and they both sit to watch the Seeker trials, both pretty confident with their performances on the pitch. When it’s all over, Yvain refuses to make any comments and urges them to wait until the definite roster is published.

 

It is during that agonisingly long week before the official team is announced that Harry Potter shows up at their Defence Against the Dark Arts class. As Professor Dawlish explains, he periodically invites Mr. Potter for the occasional lecture, and this time he called him so he can teach them the spell he’s most famous for: the Disarming Charm. Albus finally understands Lyndsay Macmillan’s embarrassment at her father being their Transfiguration teacher.

Mr. Potter explains the basics of the hand movement, as well as the necessary voice inflexion to cast the spell right.

“Alright, who wants to try first?” he asks, no hands go up, “how about you, Scorpius? I hear you had an impressive duelling debut last year. Wanna try your hand at the Disarming Charm?”

Reluctantly, but knowing he’s got no other choice, Scorpius raises from his seat and approaches the front of the class. He’s usually eager to try new spells, but he definitely didn’t want to be singled out by Harry Potter, no matter how nice the stay at his home during the summer had been.

“Great. Now, try to disarm me. I won’t fight back; we’ll try it on non-attacking opponents first. Are you ready?” Harry asks and positions himself with his back to the classroom door, so Scorpius can take the other end of the room and both men are visible to the class. Scorpius walks to face Harry and nods.

“Good, go ahead.” And Scorpius performs the spell as instructed.

“ _Expelliarmus_!”

Harry’s wand flies of his hand and out the door, making a loud noise when it hits the corridor wall. Professor Dawlish’s eyebrows shoot up and Harry looks legitimately impressed.

“That was very good,” he says as he walks out of the classroom to fetch his wand, “probably a bad idea to try it with the door open. Very good, Scorpius, very good.” Some students clap and Professor Dawlish hands out the standard ten points Slytherins are by now used to receive every time Scorpius learns a new spell.

“Alright, how about the rest of you try it now? Get in pairs and try to disarm each other. Remember, we’re not duelling yet, so take turns, don’t try to cast the spell at the same time as your partner,” Harry instructs.

As expected, Albus pairs with Scorpius. Nate pulls Andrew to his side and Louis works with Tamara Pembrock, who looks eager to disarm him.

“Alright, I’ve already tried it. Your turn,” Scorpius says and Albus takes his stance.

“ _Expelliarmus_!” Nothing happens. Around them, some kids manage to make their opponent’s wand shake in their grasp, but the owners manage to hold on to them, a couple of students drop their wands to the floor right beneath their feet and Tamara Pembrock does manage to disarm Louis. No one casts the spell with the force Scorpius did. Albus looks thoroughly disappointed.

“Hey, try it again, make the hand movement a little more deliberate this time,” Scorpius encourages his friend. Albus doesn’t have any more success on his second attempt.

Harry makes rounds correcting the student’s posture and wand movements, and manages to produce a quick Locking Charm on the windows when Tamara Pembrock performs a particularly forceful spell. By the time he reaches his son, Albus looks completely frustrated, his face flushed and sweaty.

“Try to make the wrist flick at the same time you pronounce the ‘ee’,” Harry suggests, but Albus still can’t make it work.

“And make sure you put the stress on ‘pell’ and a bigger stress on ‘are’: ex-PELL-ee-ARE-muss,” Scorpius adds. This time Scorpius’ wand shakes a little, but doesn’t leave his hand.

By the time the class is over Albus realises with impotence he’s the only one of his classmates who couldn’t get the spell right.

“Don’t beat yourself up about it, it’s a tricky spell,” his father tells Albus when the class is over.

“Yeah, so tricky everyone in my class could do it but me,” Albus sulks.

“You’ll get there. Ask Neville how long it took him to get it right.”

“You think you’re making me feel better, but you’re not,” Albus says and Harry laughs.

 

His struggle with the Disarming Charm is forgotten when the Slytherin Quidditch Team official roster is posted on the notice board in their common room on Saturday morning. When Albus and Scorpius exit their dorms a bunch of students are already there trying to get a look at the piece of parchment pinned on the cork.

Slytherin Quidditch Team  
2018-2019 season

Seeker  
Glenda Urquhart (starting)  
Charlotte Vaisey (reserve)

Chasers  
Yvain Zabini, Lucinda Warrington, Albus Potter (starting)  
Tamara Pembrock, Andrew Dunbar (reserve)

Beaters  
Eirik Rowle, Humbert Bulstrode (starting)  
Marius Flint (reserve)

Keeper  
Scorpius Malfoy (starting)  
Anthony Pucey (reserve)

 

“Look, Scorpius! We made the starting line-up!” Albus exclaims excitedly. Scorpius takes the place of a disappointed third-year in front of the board and reads.

Just as his friend said, they’re both starting players in their House team now. They’re not the only second-years to make the cut, as Tamara Pembrock and Andrew Dunbar are reserve Chasers, but they’re the only two newcomers to have starting positions. Scorpius can’t help the huge grin that creeps on his face. They did it.

“Well done, mate,” Anthony Pucey congratulates him, “I knew you were gonna be starting Keeper, I did not save as many shots as you did during tryouts. But don’t think I won’t be working to claim back my place.”

“Thanks, Anthony.”

The announcement of the Quidditch rosters is all students talk about during breakfast that morning. Rose congratulates them both when she joins them at the Slytherin table and not long after Jackson Abercrombie from Gryffindor shows up grinning from ear to ear.

“I’m starting Chaser!” he exclaims, “So is Jane Caruso. The only two second-years to make it to Gryffindor Quidditch team and both of us made the starting line-up!”

“Cool!” Albus says.

“Congratulations, Jackson,” Rose adds.

“Albus and Scorpius made the team too!” Louis announces.

“Let me guess, Chaser and Keeper?” Jackson asks and both boys nod grinning.

“Well done! Then I’ll guess we’ll be facing off in the first match of the season, won’t we Scorpius?”

“Looking forward to it,” Scorpius says.

 

_Dear mom and dad,_

_I did it!!!! I made the Quidditch team! As starting Keeper! Albus made it too, we’re both really excited. We’ll have our first training session Monday morning, and I hear Yvain can be pretty rough._

_Anyways, our first match will be against Gryffindor in November, and Yvain says Chasers and the Seeker will have to train really hard because we need to score as much as we can and try to catch the Snitch before Albus’ brother does. Everyone says he’s the best Seeker in all Houses._

_Classes are great, Flitwick is handing us bigger things to mend now, and we’re duelling a little bit with Professor Dawlish, using the spells we’ve learnt so far since first year, how cool is that? And we’re still creating fires with Macmillan. I can’t wait to make fires that can change colour and fly across the room and stuff._

_Anyways, I’ve been wondering, and please don’t feel like you have to, but I was thinking if maybe you’d like to come see me play Quidditch? I know it’s probably not the best of ideas, but I was thinking maybe you could? I don’t know. I repeat, you don’t have to, it was just a thought. Either way I’m pretty sure I’ll be writing you a very long letter detailing every second of the match._

_I hope both of you are doing great. I can’t wait to see you guys during Christmas break, which, I know, is still ages away. Have a great weekend and say hi to the elves for me, especially Blinky._

_Lots of love,  
Scorpius_

 

_Dear Scorpius,_

_I know I don’t wander out of the house as frequently as I probably should, but make no mistake, both your mother and I will be there to see you play against Gryffindor, and to cheer louder than Malfoys are taught to cheer. I’m sure there’ll be some nasty looks thrown my way, but that is nothing, absolutely nothing, that could keep me from watching my only son play, so don’t even think about it._

_I’m happy to see you’re doing great in classes, make sure you beat all your classmates. And I’m certain it won’t be long before you learn to do all sorts of cool things with fire (look at that, you taught your father how to say “cool”), after all, that’s what your final exam will be about._

_Train really hard, Blaise tells me his son is quite the slave driver, but I’m sure it will make you win the Cup this year. We’ll be seeing you there._

_The house-elves miss “young Master Scorpius”, and so do we._

_Love,  
Dad_

 

_Dear Scorpius,_

_It will take more than a couple of mean-looking parents on the stands to keep your father and I from attending your first ever Quidditch match. So don’t think we “feel like we have to go”, we wouldn’t miss it for the world._

_Keep doing your best, we are both very proud of you. Be sure to tell us how you do in Macmillan’s exam, I’m sure you’ll come up with something incredible._

_Blinky says hello, and was very confused by the pair of socks you sent him, but after I explained to him you weren’t firing him, he seemed to like them very much, and now wears them everyday, much to the other elves’ confusion._

_We miss you fiercely._

_Love,  
Mom_

 

Adding Quidditch practice three times a week to their already crammed schedule takes a toll on both Scorpius and Albus.

“I don’t wanna know how’s it gonna be when we take electives next year,” Albus complains after their first week of practice.

Yvain Zabini turns out to be a very strict captain. They do a lot of running on the Quidditch pitch, as well as many jumps and zigzagging to gain agility. He also has them doing a lot of strength training with push-ups and sit-ups, especially for the Beaters and Chasers. And that’s all before they hop on the broom. Then there are many drills and they practice many different plays, and Yvain seems intent on making all Chasers, including reserves, master the Parkin’s Pincer.

Meanwhile they’ve moved on to casting multicoloured fires in Macmillan’s class. Albus seems rather fond of conjuring emerald green flames (“Like a true Slytherin,” James scoffs) but Louis wants to know when they’ll get to the part where they learn to make dancing fire. Albus still can’t make the Disarming Charm work and it frustrates him greatly. Especially when Professor Dawlish decides they’ve dwelled enough on it and teaches them the Confundus Charm.

Their teacher seems to notice Albus’ frustration and asks him to stay behind once the lesson is over.

“I’m gonna fail this class, aren’t I?” Albus asks.

“I’m sure you won’t,” Dawlish assures him.

“If I can’t get the Disarming Charm right, how do I expect to handle whatever comes next?”

“I seem to recall you did very good at Shield Charms last year. And just today, you did great with the Confundus Charm, and it was only the first lesson. That got me thinking, maybe it’s not the difficulty of the spell what’s giving you trouble, but maybe it’s something of a more psychological nature.”

“What do you mean?” Albus asks confused.

“I was walking by the Quidditch pitch the other day. I noticed you are on your House’s team. Chaser, am I right?” Albus nods. “I’m sure you’ve heard it before, but your father was an incredible Seeker. I’m pretty sure more than one person expected you to try for that position as well, just like your brother did.”

Albus rolls his eyes at this in agreement. If he had a Knut for every time somebody compared him to his father, he’d probably had more money than the Malfoys by now.

“I’m sure you’ve heard the Disarming Charm was something of a signature move of your dad’s during the Second War,” Dawlish continues and Albus nods again.

“So I was wondering, maybe it’s the pressure of performing the spell your dad became famous for what’s keeping you from getting it right.”

That … actually makes sense, Albus thinks. He hadn’t thought of it that way, but he remembers vividly how self-conscious he’d been trying to disarm Scorpius with his father making rounds in the classroom.

“Did you know I was an Auror during the War, Albus?”

Albus nods one more time. Participants of the War among the teaching staff were common knowledge in Hogwarts.

“I didn’t go to Azkaban after it was all over, but by all standards, I should have,” Dawlish says and Albus’ eyebrows shoot up. Weren’t the Aurors the good guys during the War?

“You see, my father had been an Auror too during his time, top marks, both at Hogwarts and Auror training, and of course, once I began standing out in classes as a first-year student, it was expected I followed into the same footsteps. And so I did. I got top marks, ‘Outstanding’ in all my N.E.W.T.s, became an incredibly accomplished Auror. I was everything my parents ever expected me to be. Except I forgot to be myself.”

“What do you mean?” Albus asks.

“As you know, the Ministry of Magic has been there for hundreds of years, and will be there for a hundred more. What changes, of course, is the Minister behind the desk. I always believed my job as an Auror was to be the strong arm of the Ministry, of the institution that makes sure wizards and witches in Britain can live in order and peace. I believed it so hard, I forgot to take into account my own beliefs.

“So, every time the politics at the Ministry changed, so did mine. I am not pleased to confess I attacked Headmaster Dumbledore, as well as Professor Hagrid, under Ministry’s orders. And later on, after Voldemort took over, I practically became a Death Eater with an Auror badge. Good thing Professor Longbottom’s grandmother was a rather skilled duellist even at her old age, otherwise that would be one more thing on my conscience.” Dawlish takes a deep breath before continuing.

“What I’m trying to say is sometimes people expect so much from us, that we forget the things we expect from ourselves. If you had asked me when I was a student if I thought it's alright to forcefully arrest a teacher under false charges because he was half-human or attacking an old woman living alone just to send a message to her grandson, I would’ve said no in a heartbeat. And yet I did both things.” Dawlish goes quiet and Albus doesn’t know what to say. He feels like he hasn’t earned this sort of confession from his teacher, but he gets why he’s choosing to tell him this story. At last, Dawlish talks again.

“I think your father knew, when the trials after the war began, and so did Minister Shacklebolt, who was also an Auror at the time. I think it was because someone in your mother’s family made the exact same choices I did that they left me off the hook and didn’t send me to Azkaban. It also helped that, while I followed the Ministry’s orders with blind devotion, I didn’t actually take a life. However, I chose an early retirement not a few years later and found my calling in teaching, my true calling. You realise why I’m telling you all this, don’t you?”

“I — I think I do. I — I don’t have to be my father even if everyone expects me to.”

“You’re a smart kid. I can tell you’re already defining yourself. The House you’re in, the friends you’re making, and that’s a good thing. Don’t get me wrong, your father is a remarkable man, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be remarkable in your own way. Defence Against the Dark Arts was his best subject. Maybe it will be yours too, and that’s great; maybe it won’t, that’s okay too. So don’t worry too much about it, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good. So go eat something, it’s lunch time. And don’t think this means you’re off the hook with Disarming Charms, they will be in the final exam.”

“I won’t,” Albus says, “and thank you, Professor,” he adds with a shy smile.

 

November finally arrives and so does the time for the first Quidditch match of the season. Scorpius shifts between pumped up and terrified the entire week before the game against Gryffindor. For his part, Albus can’t wait to get on the pitch, and many free periods are spent tossing a Quaffle back and forth between him, Tamara and Andrew. Both friends try to be rested enough by Saturday morning, even if Scorpius does have some trouble sleeping the night before.

“Cheer up, you’ll be great, you’re a brilliant Keeper and you know it,” Albus tells him during breakfast as Rose arrives and plops down on her seat defeated.

“James is just being impossible. He keeps asking me what team I’m gonna cheer for. Now I get mom’s exasperation when it comes to Quidditch.”

“Dad says he’s gonna sit somewhere between the Slytherin half of the crowd and Gryffindor’s, you could go sit with him,” Albus suggests, “he say’s he’ll be cheering every goal I make as well as James, if he catches the Snitch.”

“You should cheer for Gryffindor, they’re gonna need the moral support after we beat them,” Scorpius says with a wide grin, masking his nerves with cockiness. Albus fist-bumps him.

“You two are terrible,” Rose laughs.

 

Scorpius and Albus follow Yvain and the rest of the team to the locker rooms where the captain gives some final instructions along with a motivational speech.

“The first game is always important, it sets conditions for the rest of the tournament, and we’re going against the defending champion, so they’re going to bring their A game today. Tough luck for them, so are we, and we have a very strong team this year, don’t we?” There are some enthusiastic nods around him, “so let’s crush them!” Yvain roars and the team cheers loudly, then they all go out to the pitch to greet the opposing players.

“On your brooms, please,” Professor Spinnet instructs after Yvain and Fred Weasley, Gryffindor’s captain, shake hands, after which she blows her whistle and the match begins.

“Diana Ryder has the Quaffle … she throws a pass to newcomer Jane Caruso but it’s intercepted by Albus Potter! A new addition to the green and silver team and seems eager to show what he’s got.” A fifth-year Ravenclaw, Kevin Turpin, is doing the commentary for the match on the stands next to Headmistress McGonagall.

“Potter passes to Yvain Zabini, who passes to legendary Chaser Lucinda Warrington … Warrington aims for the posts … and SCORE!!!!! It’s ten-zero to Slytherin.”

On the stands the Slytherins cheer loudly. Scorpius joins the celebration from his place at the goalposts. He scans the crowd looking for his parents, but he’s too far away to make out any faces. Turpin’s commentary brings Scorpius attention back to the game.

“Caruso passes to Abercrombie … Abercrombie throws to Ryder, and that was a close call with that Bludger expertly thrown her way by Eirik Rowle … Ryder manages to dodge it but loses the Quaffle … And what an amazing catch from Jackson Abercrombie! … Gryffindor still in possession … Abercrombie approaches the goalposts, he’s blocked on both sides by Zabini and Potter, and that’s a great throw to Ryder a few feet above him! … Ryder is really close now, and is flying very fast. … Bulstrode sends a Bludger to Rowle, who aims at Ryder … but she’s too far gone now … It looks like it’s gonna be a score for the Gryffindors … she shoots … Malfoy’s too far … it’s gonna be a score … score … NO SCORE!!!!”

Scorpius holds on to his broom with both legs and lurches at the post furthest away from his position to catch the Quaffle a mere second before it went through the hoop. The crowd roars at Scorpius’ save.

“What an amazing catch by Slytherin’s new Keeper, Scorpius Malfoy!” Kevin comments, while Albus passes by whooping cheerfully.

“That was such a football move!” he screams at his friend, laughing.

“Except for the fact I’m sitting on a broom,” Scorpius counters, Albus laughs again before heading back to the game.

“Slytherin in possession … Zabini throws to Potter and flies ahead to try and receive the Quaffle back from him … The Weasley siblings seem firm in marking Warrington with the Bludgers … Caruso intercepts a pass aimed to Zabini, what a great addition to the Gryffindor roster! … She makes it all the way to the opposite end of the pitch, Warrington close on her heels, and that is one strong play by Roxanne Weasley, but Warrington manages to dodge the Bludger … Caruso takes aim, she wants to score, she wants to score and … NO SCORE!!!! Scorpius Malfoy does it again!”

“Yes! Yes! He did it!” Albus screams as he does a couple of loop-the-loops to celebrate.

“Slytherin in possession again … Warrington seems to be back in the game … she looks like she’s trying to reach Zabini, but wait! She feints and goes the opposite way, making the Bludgers collide against each other. Perfect timing! And looks like Seekers James Potter and Glenda Urquhart barely avoid being hit by them … Warrington throws to Potter … Potter throws to Zabini, who gives him the Quaffle back … He catches it one-handed, takes a shot and … SCORE!!!! Twenty-nil to Slytherin!”

This time it’s Scorpius’ turn to cheer.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” he yells and lets out a loud whistle.

Lucinda Warrington scores again, then Albus, then Yvain. The game is 50-0 when Jackson Abercrombie gets his hands on the Quaffle. A long pass gives the ball to Jane Caruso, who in turn tosses it to Diana Ryder, who throws it back at Jackson.

“Looks like newcomer Jackson Abercrombie is going to take a shot at getting past Scorpius Malfoy.”

“Sorry, Scorpius,” Jackson mutters under his breath at the same time Scorpius whispers, “Sorry, Jackson.”

“Abercrombie approaches the goalposts … he aims … he feints … he shoots and …” This time the Slytherins on the stands finish the sentence for him.

“NO SCORE!!!!” they roar.

“That’s right, ladies and gentlemen, Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy gets the job done one more time!”

Lucinda and Yvain score again. Gryffindor’s Keeper, David MacDougal, manages to block a shot by Albus and another two by Yvain, but Lucinda gets the Quaffle past him one more time and then Albus does. By the time Yvain scores Slytherin’s tenth goal, Scorpius has blocked five more attempts at Slytherin’s goalposts, every time eliciting a loud _NO SCORE!!!!_ from the crowd.

“What an amazing lesson on goalkeeping Malfoy is giving us today!” Kevin comments, just before Lucinda scores again.

One score by Albus, two by Lucinda and one by Yvain and the game is now at 150-0. Yvain aims for one of the hoops but a Bludger hits the tip of his broom and he drops the Quaffle to keep himself from falling. Still, the movement is too sudden and Yvain doesn’t hold himself properly.

“Looks like Slytherin Captain Yvain Zabini has injured his wrist dodging that Bludger … Yep, they’re taking him away to medical services and it’s newcomer Tamara Pembrock who takes his place. The girl sure looks eager to get on the broom.”

“Win this for me,” Yvain tells Tamara as she runs to the pitch.

“You got it, cap,” she replies with a wink.

With the score at 150-0, James knows the only chance they have at winning the game is if he finds the Snitch right now and forces a tie, which would take the game to penalties. He’s not sure if they can beat the Slytherins that way, but at least the point gap would be smaller, and that could make all the difference later in the tournament.

James flies above most of the players and desperately looks for the Snitch, without luck. Not far from him Glenda Urquhart does the same, keeping a close watch on James as well. Then he sees it. Small and quivering a few feet below Roxanne Weasley’s broom. Glenda hasn’t seen it yet so it’s his chance. He plummets down, well aware that Glenda will be on his trail not long after, but hoping he’s got enough advantage to get there first. He focuses solely on getting his hands on the little golden ball, his ears barely registering Turpin’s commentary on Tamara Pembrock getting the Quaffle. He’s almost there, almost there …

The crowd suddenly goes insane and he hears Kevin Turpin scream “SCORE!!!!”, but it’s to late to stop himself. James’ hand closes on the winged Snitch effectively ending the game barely seconds after Tamara Pembrock scores the sixteenth goal for Slytherin, finishing the match at 160-150.

“That was a terrific game, everyone, and looks like Scorpius _No Score_ Malfoy has shown how’s it gonna be playing against Slytherin from now and on,” Turpin tells the crowd. “Don’t miss Ravenclaw versus Hufflepuff in two weeks from today, which I won’t be commenting but I am sure my friend Derek Branstone from Gryffindor will give us a brilliant commentary.”

Scorpius and the rest of the team land on the pitch, where the Slytherin crowd has begun to pour down to congratulate the players. Two strong hands grab him by the waist and next Scorpius finds himself being carried by his teammates. When they put him down, Albus seizes his friend and envelopes him in a bear hug.

“You were brilliant, _No Score_ ,” he tells him, making the other boy blush at his new nickname.

“I’m still having trouble believing it,” he admits.

“That’s because you were unreal,” Albus says.

Scorpius turns his face to the quickly growing crowd that’s gathered on the pitch and sees a tall blonde figure approaching them accompanied by a lean brunette woman.

“Mom, dad! You came!” Scorpius says as he runs to hug his father.

“Of course we came,” Draco says, “and you were amazing.”

“Absolutely brilliant,” Astoria confirms, ruffling his hair while Albus hops up and down around them screaming “No score! No score! No score!”

Draco looks up to the other side of the pitch where the Gryffindors are assembled. He spots Harry comforting his eldest son, who looks frustrated and disappointed. The other man feels his gaze on him and looks up to find Albus celebrating excitedly with the Malfoys and Louis, who has joined them. It makes the most bizarre image, and his bewilderment shows when he locks eyes with an equally perplex Draco.

Still, Harry walks over to them, followed by Rose and a dejected-looking James.

“You played great, son,” Harry tells Albus when he reaches him and Rose runs to give both her cousin and Scorpius a fierce hug.

“Thanks, dad.”

“Yeah, it was good,” James admits and Albus smiles, happy his brother is not mad at him, even if he is at the result of the game.

“And you were brilliant, Scorpius,” Harry adds addressing the youngest Malfoy.

“Thank you, Mr. Potter.”

“I think your captain is calling you,” Rose says as she points at where Yvain is trying to reassemble his team.

“Probably wants to make a quick review of the game before we hit he showers,” Albus guesses.

“Go,” Harry urges the pair.

As they leave, Scorpius walks past Rose and whispers to her, “See? I told you you should cheer for Gryffindor.”

“Oh, shut up,” Rose says, swatting his arm as he walks away.

Hogwarts Quidditch season begins. Illegal performance enhancing methods at play?

by Rita Skeeter

Former Death Eater Draco Malfoy’s long self-imposed house arrest was put to an end this weekend so he and his wife could witness their son Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy’s debut at the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch.

Amidst the terrified looks of several parents and students, Draco and Astoria Malfoy presented themselves at the Slytherin side of the stands to watch the opening match of the season against defending champion Gryffindor.

Many questions have arisen regarding Scorpius Malfoy’s arrival to his House’s team as the starting Keeper, as the second-year student replaced fifth-year Anthony Pucey, who had been a starting line-up player for two entire seasons. Was Scorpius’ place on the team bought? Do the Malfoy Gringotts vaults still possess enough money after the large fines the family was forced to pay after the Second War? That’s for competent authorities to investigate.

The big surprise, however, was Scorpius Malfoy’s unnatural talent at the goalposts, as not a single shot taken by the scarlet and gold players made it past the Keeper’s hands. Was it a Performance Enhancing Charm? Consumption of Felix Felicis before the game? We might never know.

Also strange was a dumbfounded Harry Potter on the stands, who didn’t know if he should cheer for his youngest son’s scores for Slytherin or for his eldest untimely capture of the Snitch for Gryffindor and ended up being a very confused (and confusing) spectator.

Even more strange was the post-game celebration where Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy barely spoke a word to each other as their sons celebrated together (the impossible friendship between Albus Severus Potter and Scorpius Malfoy still looks painfully forced from miles away).

Will the budding tension between these two volatile families escalate to the point of violence? Or with this ill-advised alliance between their offspring serve it’s purpose of brokering some much needed peace? We shall see. Meanwhile, should Hogwarts invest in magical doping control methods?

 

“I don’t know why I’m even surprised,” Albus says as he finishes reading the Sunday edition of _The Daily Prophet_ during breakfast the morning after the game.

“Must she piss on everything? What did I ever do to her?” Scorpius asks in rage.

“Seriously, she’s not worth your anger, Score,” Louis says as he rips his copy of the paper to shreds, “I don’t even know why I still subscribe to this rubbish.”

“Have you read this?” Rose asks arriving to their table with the newspaper high in her hand.

“Just same old Rita Skeeter, Rose, we are over it,” Albus shrugs, trying hard not to give the article the importance it doesn’t deserve.

“I just hate that woman. I mean, the whole thing is so stupid: ‘Was Scorpius’ place on the team bought?’” she reads out loud, “well she answers her own question right below, doesn’t she? ‘not a single shot made it past the Keeper’s hands’. That’s how he made it on the team! Gosh!”

“I wouldn’t pay any mind to it,” someone says behind Rose. The girl turns to find Jackson Abercrombie, who was walking by with Diana Ryder.

“I know the kind of rubbish that woman writes and I don’t think Scorpius cheated, I reckon nobody does. You can’t fake talent, not with all the Felix Felicis in the world,” he elaborates.

“Yeah, and all of us up there in the air, we all saw it, Score’s just that good,” Diana adds, “which means we’ll have to step up our game if we want to beat Slytherin next year.”

“It was David MacDougal’s first year on the starting line-up, you know?” Jackson says, “last year he was only a substitute, climbed up after the starting Keeper graduated. But I reckon Fred will train him extra hard this year.”

“Oh, you can bet on it,” Diana snorts, “Fred and I made the team at the same time during our second year, and he’s only gotten more and more driven as the years pass.”

“So, seriously, Rose, don’t give Skeeter any more importance than she deserves,” Jackson concludes.

“See? We know what Skeeter writes is rubbish, they know it, everyone knows it,” Louis intervenes, “don’t worry about it.”

“Yeah, my family cancelled their subscription to _The Prophet_ a long time ago,” Jackson agrees.

“Mine are muggle, but even they know it’s better to get their news of what’s going on with our world from _The Quibbler_ instead,” Diana adds.

“Well, I still wanna catch that woman. What she’s doing is illegal,” Rose says crossing her arms.

“That’s a happy thought,” Jackson concedes.

“Meantime, I’m really happy with Professor Macmillan right now,” Rose states.

“Why is that?” Scorpius asks.

“Because he taught us how to do this,” Rose slams her copy of _The Prophet_ on the table and points her wand at it, “ _Incendio_!” she exclaims and the paper bursts into flames. They all laugh.

 

“Why is Hufflepuff above Slytherin on the table if they both won a match each?” Rose asks two weeks later after Hufflepuff defeats Ravenclaw 230 to 70.

“The point system is the same as in the Quidditch World Cup,” Albus explains, “two points for every win, plus three additional points if there’s difference of 100 points or five if it’s of 150.”

“Which means we need to make sure we beat Ravenclaw by a wide margin in February,” Scorpius adds.

Yvain is of the same opinion, as he barely gives the team a few days off before doubling on the work during training sessions, saying he wants them to lose as little shape as possible during winter break.

The difficulty of classes intensifies, and so far only a handful of students in their year, Scorpius and Rose among them, can manage to produce fire at command. Longbottom has them harvesting gillyweed and they all struggle with the Hair-Raising Potion Professor Higgs teaches them.

On a Tuesday before lunch, right after everyone has finally succeeded at casting the Engorgement Charm to double the size of the miniature bottles Flitwick handed them, Scorpius finally approaches the teacher with a brand new iPod Albus had asked his dad to procure for him.

“I want to make it work at Hogwarts,” he tells Flitwick once everyone’s left to the Great Hall.

“That would be very difficult,” Flitwick declares.

“Difficult doesn’t scare me.”

“Very well. In that case, you must know devices that work with electricity must almost always contain a permanent enchantment to enhance one of their properties. That way, the magic imbued in the device will prevent the magic in the air from causing it to short-circuit,” Flitwick explains.

“So I just have to cast a charm on it.”

“It’s not that simple. You can’t just cast a superficial spell on it, like a Colour Change Charm to make it look blue instead of black, you need to charm it with an enchantment that modifies the very way the device works, a spell that the object embraces as its own, which will prevent it from responding violently to magic.”

“Like a flying motorcycle,” Scorpius suggests.

“Exactly. The vehicle appropriates the enchantment placed upon it so it is no longer a mere motorcycle, but a flying one.”

“So if I were to charm this iPod to, let’s say, select a song depending on the owner’s mood, the magic would become an organic part of it and it wouldn’t reject magic anymore, am I right?”

“That would be correct. But to do that you need far more knowledge in the field of charms than you possess right now, for you must cast a variety of spells: a charm that gives the device (eye-pod, is it?) the ability to sense its owner’s emotions, one to sort through the music stored in it and one to play it on its own. It’s all in all, very complicated spellwork.”

“Oh,” Scorpius says, visibly disappointed.

“Don’t look like that, here,” Flitwick says as he produces a piece of parchment and scribbles a few words on it with his wand, “these are a few books you shall find useful.” Scorpius’ face lights up at that.

“Thank you so much, Professor Flitwick, I promise I’ll read them.”

“Good, good. But don’t distract yourself too much on them, I don’t want you failing your exams because of this.”

“I won’t, Professor, I promise.”

 

Scorpius devotes his free time at reading through the books Flitwick suggested. winter break comes around and Draco finds his son with his nose buried in a book every time he visits his room to check up on him and make sure he’s still alive.

“Scorpius, son,” he says trying to get his son’s attention, but the boy doesn’t seem to acknowledge him. “Score,” he tries again using his new nickname. No response.

“SCORPIUS MALFOY!”

Scorpius jumps in his chair and looks up at his dad in confusion.

“What is it?”

“It’s almost dinner time, why don’t you give it a rest?”

“I want to finish this book before the break is over,” Scorpius explains.

“And why is that?”

“So I can charm my iPod to work on Hogwarts grounds.”

“Why is that so important to you?” Draco asks genuinely curious.

“Because, it can change everything,” Scorpius answers, his voice almost a plea for his father to see what he sees.

“It’s muggle technology.”

“You don’t get it. It’s not — it’s not what we’ve always thought it was. Madame Selwyn always made it sound like muggle life is rubbing sticks to make fire or something, but it’s nothing like that. It’s … something else entirely, it’s almost magic the way they live without magic.”

Draco sighs. Of all the possible challenges he imagined parenthood would bring, this was definitely not one he’d been prepared for.

“I just don’t get it,” he admits at last.

“Come with me to Muggle London. Just the two of us. We’ll book a room at a hotel and I’ll show you everything.”

Draco remains silent for a long time. He doesn’t know how to respond. Malfoy men aren’t used to say no to their kids, that’s why they’re all spoiled, but Malfoy whims usually consist in last generation broomsticks and expensive holidays abroad, not experimenting with muggle technology. His mind wanders to the portrait they have of their ancestor Brutus Malfoy hanging on the walls of the library and the ancient newspaper clipping they have where the man stated something Malfoys knew to be true since the beginning of time:

 _This we may state with certainty: Any wizard who shows fondness for the society of Muggles is of low intelligence, with magic so feeble and pitiful that he can only be himself superior if surrounded by Muggle pig-men. Nothing is a surer sign of weak magic than a weakness for non-magical company_.

He knows the words at heart, he read them many times, particularly when his resolve during the War faltered. He read them to remind himself what he was fighting for. _Nothing is a surer sign of weak magic than a weakness for non-magical company_.

Of course, those words meant nothing when muggle-born Granger bested him in every subject, when muggle-friendly Molly Weasley obliterated his aunt in a magical duel or when muggle-raised Potter disarmed him all those years ago. Then there’s his son, his wonderful, skilled son, the one that always gets the spells right on the first try and wins magical duels not a month after turning twelve, the one that is also a prodigy on the broom and catches every shot thrown at him. Surely, his magic can’t be weak, nor can his intelligence, and yet, he finds muggle life fascinating. It astonishes him. In a way that is almost crippling. Still, he knows what he has to do.

“Alright. One week. We leave the 26th in the morning and come back for New Year’s Eve. I want you to show me.”

In the end, he suspects the reason why all Malfoy men spoil their kids is because nothing compares with the smile they get in return from them.

 

The week at Muggle London is … enlightening. They make a stop at Diagon Alley to change a large sum of Galleons to muggle currency, and that’s the end of their contact with the wizarding world for the rest of the week.

Scorpius is no expert in muggle life, but is resourceful enough to navigate the city with what he’s learned so far. He takes his father shopping first, so they can wear muggle clothes. Malfoy discovers some items stylish enough for his liking and even deems a pair of designer jeans comfortable. He also finds a handbag he knows Astoria will love.

They check into a luxurious hotel (what’s the point of being a Malfoy if they don’t?) and once they’re behind closed doors Scorpius teaches him the basics. Some things they use at the wizarding world, Draco realises, were taken from the muggles without so much as a change of colour. The toilet seats, the lavatories, the showers, they’re no different from the ones they have at Hogwarts or at home. Some other things are real novelties.

Scorpius teaches him to use the telephone. First to order room service and then to make a call to a nearby cinema to ask about schedules and ticket prices. Next he shows him the telly and makes sure to find a science fiction movie on it, to show him how they make the most fantastic things come to life with special effects.

The little moving people on the small screen are one thing, but when Draco sits through his first ever motion picture at a movie theatre it is life altering. They find a place that shows old movies, the very first made by mankind. When he reads in the leaflet they’re given that the first time the audience saw a moving train approaching on the screen there were screams and people fainting left and right, Draco can honestly relate, for he’s grown up around moving photographs, but nothing feels as big, as monumental, as awe inspiring as the black and white steam locomotive projected on the screen.

He marvels at the story of _A Trip to the Moon_ , and he stares in wonder at the humanised celestial bodies that dance before him. They go to the movies every day after that, and Draco can’t believe how far the industry went in a little over a century, as the special effects in _A Trip to the Moon_ look now laughable when compared to the complicated action sequences they watch in more recent releases.

They catch a football game on the telly at their hotel suite and take a walk around a nearby park, where Draco finally meets the monkey bars. The most complicated thing to explain, though, are mobile phones and the internet, as Scorpius doesn’t have anything to properly demonstrate. Draco fixes this soon enough purchasing a laptop and a smartphone for his son, who in turn shows him the wonders of having the world’s knowledge in one’s pocket.

When he sees he can find anything, from muggle cars to photos from around the world to science discoveries to celebrity gossip, he thinks back to the clipping from _Warlock at War_ were his ancestor’s words lie like a mantra: _The Muggle pig-men_. He then remembers the statue the Dark Lord had placed at the Ministry during the Second War, where wizards sat on the bodies of hundreds of stupid looking muggles. He looks out the hotel window and sees the skyscrapers and the glass buildings and suddenly sees these people, the ones who built these things, the ones who managed to encapsulate an entire universe of wisdom in the palm of their hands, under a much, much different light.

“There’s greed here too,” Scorpius tells his dad one night, “and corruption. Professor Thomas told us about two great wars at the beginning of last century and how people are still prosecuted for who they are or where they come from to this day.”

“I guess the potential for darkness is in all of us,” Draco muses.

“I guess so,” Scorpius agrees.

Draco returns home with an iPod for himself and one for his wife, filled with an assortment of classical music and jazz. He still doesn’t like the music Albus and James selected for his son to listen.

The break is over and Draco’s never seen his son so eager to get back to school so he can put in practice what he read over the past weeks. Though he still doesn’t know what to make of his son’s fascination with muggle life, he decides letting him be is far more than what he got from his own father, and probably what Lucius got form his father before him.

 

Training sessions become more and more demanding as their game against Ravenclaw approaches. When the second half of February arrives, both Scorpius and Albus are overworked and exhausted.

“Good luck to you two, but this time I’m cheering for my House,” Rose informs them.

“What about your family?” Albus asks faking indignation.

“Dominique is Ravenclaw’s Seeker, she is family,” Rose responds.

“What about your friends?” Scorpius asks.

“Well, I wish them luck. But I’m still cheering for Ravenclaw,” she states as she heads over to the library.

“That’s the power of sport,” Albus tells his friend, “it makes even the most bookish bookworm a passionate supporter.”

“I hear what you’re saying, mate” Scorpius agrees.

 

It’s a very cold morning the day of the match. A lot of players are shivering inside the locker rooms and know it will only get worse once they walk out on the pitch.

“Alright, people, showtime,” Yvain tells them, “we need a 150 points difference to raise in the ranks, so every shot we make counts and the Snitch must be ours, got it?” They all nod.

“Good, let’s get them!”

 

They all take Yvain’s words very seriously. Lucinda Warrington scores within the first ten minutes and then Yvain does. Meanwhile, Scorpius manages to block two shots, with the crowd screaming the now popular _NO SCORE!_ every time, though his reflexes are somewhat diminished by the cold.

“Everything alright over there?” Yvain asks him when he flies by.

“Yeah, my fingers are a little numb, that’s all,” Scorpius assures him and gives him the thumbs up. That seems to satisfy Yvain.

A few minutes go by without any team scoring, both Scorpius and Liam Claverdon from Ravenclaw blocking the shots thrown at them. Glenda Urquhart and Dominique Weasley chasing each other at the same time they scour the pitch looking for the Snitch. Then one of Ravenclaw’s Chasers swoops by with the Quaffle in his hands. He throws it with force and this time Scorpius is too slow to get to the rightmost goalpost. Ravenclaw scores.

“And SCORE!!!! Ladies and gentlemen, Scorpius Malfoy’s immaculate streak is finally broken. This writes Jonathan Davies’ name in this season’s statistics. And the game is now twenty-ten, with Slytherin still in the lead,” Derek Branstone from Gryffindor comments from the stands.

“Dammit!” Scorpius curses.

“Hey, don’t sweat it. It was bound to happen at some point. Keep your head in the game,” Yvain instructs him before flying away.

But Scorpius still fails to catch the next shot thrown at him.

“RAVENCLAW SCORES!!!! The game is now tied at twenty-twenty. Both Seekers look like they’re getting more and more pressed to find the Snitch now,” Scorpius hears Derek say.

“Bloody hell!” Scorpius screams.

“Hey, chill! You’ll catch the next one,” Albus yells at him reassuringly.

Lucinda Warrington scores a third goal for Slytherin and then a girl from Ravenclaw manages to dodge all three Slytherin Chasers, two Bludgers and takes a shot at the goalposts. Scorpius manages to save it this time.

“Yes!” Albus whoops, “see? I told you you’d catch it.”

Then the crowd goes insane. Albus turns around to find Glenda and Dominique racing each other and chasing after the Snitch a few feet below. Beaters from both teams scramble to fling Bludgers the opposing Seeker’s way, but both girls are talented enough to dodge them. Meanwhile Yvain urges Albus and Lucinda to get a move on and try to score again in the mean time. Then it’s all over. Glenda Urquhart catches the Snitch and the game comes to an end.

“That’s a second victory for the Slytherins, who win the game 180 to 20 and momentarily raise to the first position with nine points, followed closely by Hufflepuff with seven. Gryffindor and Ravenclaw are yet to secure a win in the tournament,” Derek informs the audience. Up in the air, Scorpius and Albus celebrate their team’s win screaming and whooping and making wild acrobatics on their brooms.

 

The high from the win lasts all the way to the week before Easter holidays. Hufflepuff beats Gryffindor 190 to 100 and both teams are now tied at first place, meaning the upcoming game between both Houses will be the defining match of the tournament, while Gryffindor and Ravenclaw will dispute third place during the final game of the season.

While they wait for May to arrive, teachers continue to increase the workload, and Roxanne and Molly Weasley start going a little insane as the O.W.L.s and the N.E.W.T.s approach.

“I give up,” Molly says as she bangs her head on the heavy volume she’s reading, sitting with some other Weasleys and Scorpius at a table they claimed at the library, “I’m never gonna pass my Potions N.E.W.T.”

“What are you working on?” Rose asks.

“The Polyjuice Potion, look,” she hands over her copy of _Moste Potente Potions_ for Rose to examine. Rose stares at the instructions for a long while.

“I can’t believe my mother did this when she was in the same year I am,” she mutters.

“Let me see,” Scorpius says and Rose shifts so he can read with her.

“This takes days to make, how did she manage to do it without anyone noticing?”

“She cooked it inside a toilet stall in the girl’s bathrooms on the second floor, you know, the ones that are always out of order.”

“The ones that are magically locked because everyone knows that’s where the entrance to the Chamber of the Secrets is?” Albus asks.

“That’s right.”

“How did she brew the potion inside a toilet stall?” Scorpius asks confused.

“Waterproof fire,” Rose explains with a grin, “fires that can be transported, carried and submerged are my mom’s specialty.”

That gives Scorpius an idea.

 

During Easter holidays Scorpius gets permission to stay with Albus again. This time Draco drops him off at the Potter’s with a lot more ease and doesn’t mention any rules for his son. Scorpius’ reason for his visit to Godric’s Hollow, however, is not only to spend time with his best mate. On a day when Albus and Harry leave for the nearby market, Ginny is out on tour following the National League and James is sound asleep with a Quidditch magazine over his head, Scorpius sneaks out of the house and walks the few blocks that separate it from Rose’s place, knowing that his friend is out with her dad and brother in London, meaning the person he wants to talk to is all alone.

“Scorpius?” Hermione Granger asks when the boy knocks on the door of the Weasley-Granger residence.

“Hello, Mrs. Granger. I was wondering if I could talk to you.”

“Of course, come in,” Hermione says surprised, sensing the apprehension in Scorpius voice.

Hermione offers her visitor a cup of tea and waits for the young Malfoy to gather his thoughts.

“I know you probably hate my dad,” he blurts at last, and it is evident that wasn’t the way he wanted to start the conversation.

“I don’t hate your father, Scorpius,” Hermione counters in a soft but firm voice.

“Y — You don’t?” Scorpius asks dumbfounded.

“I don’t,” Hermione repeats, “a lot of things happened a long time ago, some of them very unpleasant, but you’ll learn that when there’s a war, the people involved in it do their best at trying to put everything behind them. For our own health.”

“So you’ve forgiven him for … for …” Scorpius knows something terrible happened between Mrs. Granger and his dad, but he’s not entirely sure of what it is. He also doesn’t know if he actually wants to know.

“I will be honest with you. I don’t really know where my feelings stand when it comes to your father, what I do know is that you are an amazing boy and that you are a good friend to my daughter and to my nephews. I also know kids are not responsible for their fathers’ actions.”

“Oh,” Scorpius says lowering his eyes to his untouched cup of tea.

“Is that why you wanted to talk to me?” Hermione asks and Scorpius blushes.

“No, actually … I wanted to ask for your help, but, you know …”

“You didn’t know if I’d help the son of Draco Malfoy,” Hermione finishes for him and Scorpius nods, feeling a little embarrassed.

“Like I said, you are not your father. So, come on, what is it? What can I help you with?”

“Rose says you could create portable fires when you were my age.” Hermione chuckles.

“Rose shouldn’t be bragging about the times I broke rules at school, which were very few and far between, mind you, and most of them because I was trying to drag Harry and Ron out of trouble. Now, why do you need a portable fire?”

“Not exactly. You see, I’ve been working on a project of my own,” Scorpius explains, taking out his new iPod to show it to Hermione and proceeds to tell her about his plans.

“I need to perform some permanent magical modifications on it for it to work. And I was wondering, if you can make a fire that you can carry around with you, would it be the same with electricity? I mean, like, instead of charging a device by plugging it to a hole on a wall, replacing the battery with one you could magically recharge with a tap of your wand?”

“Theoretically … that would work, yes,” Hermione replies, dubious.

“Could you teach me?”

“You want me to teach you … to encapsulate electricity.”

“That’s right?”

“All so you can listen to your iPod at school?” Hermione asks and Scorpius blushes.

“I haven’t told anyone about it, I mean, they all think I just want to make the iPod work, but in truth …” Scorpius takes a big breath, “I want to bring muggle technology to the wizarding world. Like, in large scale, not only iPods and stuff, but it’s a start.” Hermione’s eyebrows shoot up.

“That’s … ambitious,” she says.

“Sly —”

“Slytherin, I know, Albus doesn’t tire of reminding us,” Hermione cuts him off with a smirk. “But this sounds like a career path you’re picking. Is that what you wanna do? Be a wizard inventor?”

“I’ve thought about it a lot, and yes, that’s what I wanna do. I mean, I’m only thirteen, I could change my mind anytime, but I think this is what I really want.”

“I wonder what it’s like to have it so clear at that age,” she muses.

“You didn’t?” Scorpius asks curiously.

“There were little things, here and there, you know, like campaigning for house-elves’ rights when I was fourteen, but I didn’t have a defined plan, you know? I had no idea I would make a career out of it or that I was gonna get into magical law. It was actually an offhand comment from a former Minister some years later that put a lot of things in perspective. But you seem like you’ve thought this through.”

“I have,” Scorpius agrees.

“In that case, I’d be happy to help.”

 

Scorpius is bursting with eagerness when the break is over and he can do magic at Hogwarts again. Hermione shows up at the castle the following Saturday to help Scorpius. She takes him to a corridor on the seventh floor after breakfast, where Scorpius follows her carrying several boxes of unopened iPods.

“How many did you get? Those are expensive,” Hermione asks impressed.

“Perks of being a Malfoy,” Scorpius grins, “look, there’s an empty classroom.”

“We’re not going to a classroom. The magic in the air will make it impossible for us to work there. What we need, is a place free of magic.”

“Where are we gonna find one of those in Hogwarts?” Scorpius asks as they walk, hoping Hermione doesn’t stumble on Louis snogging Larissa Hopkins from Hufflepuff inside an empty classroom as he and Albus did a few days before.

“You’ll see you can find nearly anything you need at Hogwarts, if you know how to look for it,” Hermione explains.

“I’m sure we’ve passed this corridor at least three times,” Scorpius points out, “hey, was that door there before?” Hermione just grins.

“What is this place?” Scorpius asks as they walk inside a large room with a desk, a couple of chairs and a bookshelf.

“This is the Room of Requirement. As you can probably get by its name —”

“It provides you with whatever you require?” Scorpius finishes for her.

“That’s right. We need a place where magic can be practiced on the inside, but that blocks the magic from the outside. Here your iPod will work.”

“That’s brilliant!”

 

They spend two full hours locked inside the Room of Requirement. Hermione first teaches him how to cast a multiple Hover Charm so he can disassemble all the iPod’s components and take the battery out. Then they start experimenting with several ways of producing electrical energy that could be contained.

They don’t succeed that first day, and many of Scorpius’ iPods are blasted in the process, but Scorpius wasn’t expecting to get it right on the first try and is happy at the amount of ground they covered. Luckily, the Room seems to be able to produce muggle technology and new music players appear inside a drawer when their stack starts to run low.

“Muggle technology is not one of the five Principal Exceptions to Gamp’s Law of Elemental Transfiguration,” Hermione explains as she hands Scorpius a chicken-and-ham sandwich she had packed for them to snack on, “just don’t try asking the Room for food or money.”

Once they decide to call it a day, they both make their way to the Great Hall, only to find the tables have disappeared and been replaced by several wooden stands filled with people, objects and books.

“Oh, right, I forgot, the School Fair!” Scorpius says.

“The School Fair?” Hermione parrots dumbfounded.

“They showcase many of Hogwarts activities for you to join, you know, Quidditch teams, Duelling Club, Gobstone Club, Wizard’s Chess Club. But it’s mostly to learn about the electives we’re supposed to take next year.”

“Oh, that’s great! In my time they only gave us a pamphlet and we picked our classes with very little information to go on. That’s how I ended up taking Divination, which, trust me, I do not recommend for a young man with intellectual curiosity such as yourself … or for anyone, really.” Scorpius laughs.

There are stands on several subjects, attended by teachers Scorpius had only seen in passing or dining in the Great Hall. Hermione says hello to a very old professor, who Scorpius learns is called Septima Vector and teaches Arithmancy. Both witches chat amicably for a while and Professor Vector hands Scorpius a small leaflet on the applications of Arithmancy in modern-day curse-breaking.

A few steps ahead Hermione greets another acquaintance: Professor Bathsheda Babbling, who teaches Study of Ancient Runes and also looks delighted to see her former student.

“Mrs. Granger! It’s so lovely to see you here.”

“The pleasure’s all mine, Professor.”

“I was delighted to see your translation of _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_ in Flourish and Blotts, and I must say, it was wonderfully done.”

“You translated _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_?” Scorpius interrupts.

“A new edition with hitherto unreleased annotations by none other than Albus Dumbledore!” Professor Babbling explains delighted as she hands him a copy of the book, which she had on display at the stand, “A brilliant translation, dear, simply brilliant.”

“Thank you, Professor, it means a lot,” Hermione answers bashfully while Scorpius goes through the book.

“So all these tales where originally written in runes?” he asks.

“That’s right. Many magical texts were written in runes back in the day, and it is a shame the translation of runes is a dying art, because there are numerous, numerous, treaties on charms written in runes, a knowledge now lost to the general population,” Babbling says and Scorpius’ eyes light up.

“Is that so?” he asks as he puts the book back on the stand.

“Why don’t you take this leaflet and think of taking this class, young man?” the teacher tells Scorpius.

They walk past a stand where an old wizard explains the basics of Alchemy, which is a class only available for sixth and seventh-years with “Outstanding” or “Exceed Expectations” marks in their Potions and Transfiguration O.W.L.s. The teacher’s name is Basilius Urbigerus and claims to be a descendant of famous 17th century alchemist Baro Urbigerus. Scorpius looks interested but, knowing he can’t take the class yet, moves along. Next is a stand where an old witch with really large glasses and a centaur are explaining Divination.

“Are you here to learn about Divination, dear? Do you want to know about the hardships that lie ahead?” the witch asks, “I am Professor Trelawney, and I will tell you about the most difficult of all magical arts,” then she looks up to see the woman accompanying Scorpius.

“ _Oh_. Well, hello, dear,” Professor Trelawney says with fake sweetness and Hermione plasters the most forced smile Scorpius has ever seen on her face, and he’s seen her greet his dad.

“Hello, Professor.”

“I see you are chaperoning your son as he makes important decisions about his future, not that you ever showed interest in that.”

“He’s not my son,” Hermione replies with a wide grin, happy to see one of Trelawney’s assumptions masqueraded as predictions go wrong. The teacher, however, addresses Scorpius again, ignoring Hermione entirely.

“If you decide to study the intricacies of Divination, you will train your Inner Eye to see the paths of fate presented before you long before you have to walk them and, provided you don’t drop out,” Trelawney adds with a pointed look at Hermione, “you will learn to recognise the omens of death and, if you are astute enough, to evade them a time or two.”

“Give it a rest, Sybill,” the centaur says behind her, “Divination goes beyond trivial human misfortunes. The future of our races is written in several different ways, from the transit of the planets to the fumes of burning herbs. Still, there are many ways these signs can be misread, even by the most studied of centaurs.”

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake, Firenze!” Professor Trelawney mutters under her breath, visibly irritated by the entire encounter.

“You dropped out of a class?” Scorpius asks astounded as they walk away. He still can’t tell what he finds more absurd, if the teachers who were supposed to convince him to take their class butting heads or the fact that _Rose's mom_ dropped out of a class.

“I dropped out of a sham,” Hermione corrects, “though I hear Firenze does have a good grasp on the subject. Too bad you can’t take all courses with him. Hey, this is new,” she says pointing at a stand holding a banner with the words _Introduction to Magical Healing_ on it. Behind it there’s a really old woman dressed just like the school matron.

“Madame Pomfrey?” she asks.

“Hermione Granger! What a surprise.”

“I thought you retired.”

“Well, I did, and I must say Mrs. Longbottom has been doing a wonderful job at the hospital wing. But after Muggle Studies became a core class, there was room for one more elective. It took a few years, but Headmistress McGonagall finally decided on Magical Healing, so she asked me to step out of my retirement and teach this class, which I accepted immediately.”

“It certainly is more useful than Divination,” Hermione agrees and Scorpius snorts.

“Mom?” Rose’s voice asks from the entrance to the Great Hall, “what are you doing here?”

“Oh, just visiting,” Hermione says, “and realising how much Hogwarts has changed, we didn’t have these fairs before.”

“I just got back from the Lake. Hagrid has a couple of unicorn foals, they’re so golden and pretty! And he’s also tending to the Giant Squid and it really seems to like Hagrid! I am for sure taking Care of Magical Creatures next year.”

“Unicorns? Cool!” Scorpius exclaims excited, eager to run off to the school grounds.

 

When the time comes, Scorpius settles on Care of Magical Creatures (along with pretty much everyone in their year) and Study of Ancient Runes, along with Rose and Louis. Albus for his part, goes for Introduction to Magical Healing, a class he knows his brother is taking too.

The rest of the term is spent in increasingly longer cram sessions as their final examinations are coming up. Scorpius spends a lot of his free time locked inside the Room of Requirement trying to make his iPod work. Albus, Rose and Louis frequently keep him company, as they discover the place is ideal for quiet study sessions and for practicing the spells they know will come in their tests.

The Transfiguration final exam seems to be everyone’s main worry, as they’ll be asked to showcase their abilities at conjuring a wide range of manifestations of fire and electricity. The latter, of course, had been Scorpius’ main focus.

“You do realise you’re doing it nonverbally,” Albus points out in surprise as his friend taps repeatedly his wand on a voltmeter the Room of Requirement provided him, creating small sparks of electricity as he does so.

“Uh?” Scorpius asks, and then looks down at his wand in realisation, “oh.”

“You hadn’t even noticed, had you?” Albus asks amused.

“I’ve just been doing this so often these past weeks, it’s almost automatic.”

“I can’t believe it. And I still can’t produce the waterproof fire Macmillan taught us.”

“Maybe you would if you spent more time studying instead of watching Scorpius work,” Rose chimes in from where she’s sprawled on a couch reading a book on conjuration.

“Oh, shut up, I’ll get it done. Do you guys know what you’re gonna do for Macmillan’s exam?”

“I’m working on a fire that shines but doesn’t burn, but I’m still getting the hang of it,” Rose informs them, “what about you?”

“I’m still working on animated fire, you know, the one that takes different forms, like a snake or a dragon,” Albus says.

“I think I’ll go that way, too,” Louis chimes in, “what about you, Score? You know what you’re doing yet?”

“Maybe,” Scorpius shrugs noncommittally, “I might have gotten a few ideas from some videos of the Super Bowl halftime shows Albus showed me.”

“Super Owl halftime what?” Louis asks utterly confused.

 

The two final games of the season take place right before exams begin. Everyone at school is aware of how high the stakes are, and excitement runs through the student body like an electric current.

Scorpius can barely remember what goes on in the time between he goes up to the Great Hall for breakfast and Professor Spinnet blows her whistle to signal the start of the game against Hufflepuff.

“Welcome to the defining match of the 2018-2019 season!” Kevin Turpin greets the crowd, “Chasers from both teams seem intent on setting the score to their favour and here we go, that’s Albus Potter leading Slytherin’s offensive … he flies past opposing Chaser Johana Portchester. A fast kid, that one … throws to Lucinda Warrington … Warrington throws to Yvain Zabini … Zabini throws back to Potter … and SCORE!!!! Slytherin opens the match with a nice shot by Albus Potter!”

Despite that first goal, Slytherin struggles at maintaining possession of the Quaffle, as Hufflepuff’s Beaters have nearly scientific precision at aiming the Bludger at opposing Chasers.

“And here we see an impressive display by the legendary dream team of Edgar Wildsmith and Victor Desford. The dreaded Bludger-hurling machine seems intent on keeping the Slytherins away from the Quaffle … and that’s a great shot by Wildsmith that nearly makes Potter fall off his broom as he dodges the Bludger!”

Slytherin still makes the best of what little time they get with the Quaffle. Albus scores again then Lucinda does. Then Johana Portchester gets her hands on the ball and flies away to the opposite end of the pitch.

“Portchester escapes Zabini and Warrington … Eirik Rowle sends a Bludger her way … but it’s deviated by another Bludger sent by Victor Desford! Those Hufflepuff Beaters, really … Johana makes it to the goalposts … she shoots … SHE SCORES!!!! The game is now thirty-ten with Slytherin in the lead.” The Hufflepuff fans go wild at Johana’s score.

“Johana Portchester is a new addition to Hufflepuff’s roster and she’s managed to score at every game this season,” Kevin Turpin informs the audience, while Scorpius curses under his breath.

The following minutes are hell for Scorpius. Johana Portchester scores once again and then a seventh-year guy from Hufflepuff does, followed by another score by a sixth-year girl.

“Looks like Scorpius Malfoy has misplaced his mojo for this game, as the score is now forty-thirty and for the first time in the entire season, Slytherin is _not_ in the lead.”

Four goals in a row, Scorpius can barely see straight in his frustration.

“Dammit, dammit, dammit!” he screams after the fourth goal is scored.

“Hey, calm down!” Yvain admonishes him, “I need your head cool for this, can you do that for me?”

Scorpius nods vigorously trying to get his anger in check.

Albus gets his hands on the Quaffle and sprints to the goalposts, determined to tie the game, but a Bludger powerfully sent his way makes him drop the Quaffle, which falls right into Johana Portchester’s hands.

“And Edgar Wildsmith and Victor Desford manage to successfully do the Dopplebeater Defence, an extremely complicated move where both Beaters hit the Bludger at the same time, infusing the ball with a remarkable destructive power. It should be noted that Wildsmith and Desford are the only Beaters this year that can accomplish that move, and with extraordinary success, I might add,” Kevin says.

The long brown-haired Chaser approaches Scorpius, but two goals from her have taught him a thing or two about the way she shoots. He manages to read the Chaser’s feint and plunges at the correct goalpost this time.

“NO SCORE!!!!” the Slytherins roar from the stands.

“And it looks like Scorpius Malfoy got his mojo back!” Kevin says excitedly.

The save is followed by the longest minutes of Scorpius’ life. The Quaffle flies back and forth between Chasers from both teams, none of them managing to make a complete play. Scorpius begins getting anxious, knowing Slytherin can’t afford another goal. Then he sees it. Flying a few feet away directly on his line of sight is the golden Snitch. But Hufflepuff’s Seeker is closer to it. He needs to think fast. Anything he does might alert the rival boy. He catches Albus’ attention and thanks the gods both of them had gotten pretty good at nonverbal communication.

Albus sees the Snitch too and finds Glenda Urquhart flying close to him but painfully away from the winged ball. Hufflepuff’s Seeker is giving his back to it, so they’ve got time, they just have to be smart about it.

Albus catches the Quaffle from Lucinda and instead of sprinting to the goalposts he flies sideways and rushes past his House’s Seeker.

“Near our goalposts, but be discreet,” is all he manages to say before turning abruptly and aiming for the goal. This time Rowle and Bulstrode manage to run interference on the Bludgers Hufflepuff’s Beaters shoot his way. Albus flies directly at the opposing Keeper, as though he’s trying to crash his broom squarely on him, only to fly up on the last second and hurl the Quaffle at the rightmost hoop.

“SCORE!!!! Albus Potter ties the game at forty-forty!” The crowd is barely done clapping when Kevin speaks again, “and look at that! While everyone was paying attention to Potter, Glenda Urquhart from Slytherin found the Snitch! The ball is flying away from her, and Martin Belby is close on Urquhart’s tail! … They’re both head to head now … AND URQUHART CATCHES THE SNITCH!!!! Slytherin wins the game 190-40 and leaves the tournament undefeated, ladies and gentlemen! Now don’t miss Ravenclaw versus Gryffindor playing for third place two weeks from now, which will be commented by Stephen Glossop from Hufflepuff, because apparently, neither Derek Branstone nor I can be trusted to comment on it impartially.”

“Yes, yes, yes!!!!” Scorpius screams as he races to meet Albus mid-air and fist-bump him.

“Nice distraction, mate, and nice score. For a second I thought you were gonna crash on Terry Brocklehurst.”

“That’s what I wanted him to think,” Albus replies smugly. “Nice job at spotting the Snitch before Belby did, it was right behind him, that could’ve cost us the game.”

“Good thing we have a great Seeker,” Scorpius says and Albus agrees.

They both descend to the pitch and join the Slytherins’ celebration. Yvain Zabini is holding the Cup high on his arms, while the rest of the team surrounds him. They all hug and congratulate each other and allow themselves to be wrapped by their fellow Housemates. On the pitch, Scorpius and Albus see their parents approach them.

“Great job, Albus!” Harry congratulates as Ginny runs to hug her son.

“You made your mother so proud,” she says.

“You were great too, Scorpius,” Draco says.

“It wasn’t really my best game,” Scorpius mutters a little embarrassed.

“Nonsense, you were the best player of the season, one bad game doesn’t change that,” Astoria refutes.

“And it was a good save the one at the end,” Harry adds. Albus looks between his parent’s and Scorpius’.

“Did you — did you all come here together?” he asks amazed.

“We … might have run into each other at the stands,” Harry explains looking at Draco with a smile. Draco looks a little startled, but not as uncomfortable with being around that many Potters as he would have been some time before. Albus gives them all a toothy grin, mirrored by Scorpius.

“Good,” is all he says.

 

A good catch from James saves Gryffindor from finishing last on the tournament and the third place game against Ravenclaw ends at 250-80. Then exams week rolls by and Quidditch is mostly forgotten as everyone comes close to a breakdown. Scorpius disappears for hours on end and doesn’t even show up at the Room of Requirement anymore. On Monday they have their examinations on Charms and History of Magic, as well as review lessons with Higgs and Dawlish.

Professor Flitwick hands them a small sack filled with glass shards and instructs them to cast the appropriate incantations to make them look like the pictures drawn on the black board. It takes several consecutive uses of the Engorgement, Shrinking and Mending Charms for the pieces of glass to form the large swan sculptures they were meant to be. Next they’re asked to make the swans’ wings flap and make the glass figures fly all the way to Flitwick’s desk for them to be graded.

History of Magic’s exam is a never-ending questionnaire on names, dates and events that Scorpius and Albus are sure they’re gonna fail, and Louis doesn’t sound too confident either.

“I really like History, you know? But the way Binns teaches it, it’s like listening to a bee drone and try to make sense of it,” Louis complains and his friends wholeheartedly agree.

Herbology’s examination takes place on Tuesday at greenhouse 4, which Neville modified since his arrival at Hogwarts to house water plants. It’s not too hard and Neville’s relaxed demeanour helps calm everyone’s nerves as they properly collect gillyweed. On Wednesday they take their Defence Against the Dark Arts exam, and Albus finally, finally, manages the Disarming Charm, successfully taking Scorpius wand away from him during the strictly supervised duel Dawlish organised.

On Thursday they must cook up a Sleeping Draught within the two hours they’re given to complete the task and at midnight they take their Astronomy test. They barely get any sleep before their Muggle Studies exam first thing Friday morning, where they’re asked several questions on how they would solve everyday problems without magic. Scorpius becomes the first ever pure-blooded Slytherin to answer every question correctly.

Their Transfiguration exam takes place out of the ordinary schedule, at evening after all classes are done for the week and at the Great Hall, instead of the usual classroom. Professor Macmillan has assembled all second-year students from all Houses and informed them they would all present their test that day. Albus, Rose, Louis and Jackson are chatting animatedly on how they’ve done so far during the week, but Scorpius is nowhere to be found.

Professor Macmillan notifies them they’ll be called at random to perform their test, and Jeremy Kettletoft from Hufflepuff is the first student to be called. The skinny light-haired boy walks up to the far end of the Hall and begins conjuring a variety of multicoloured fire columns, followed by several dancing lightning bolts.

“MacDougal, Gregory,” Macmillan calls and a broad-shouldered boy from Ravenclaw takes Jeremy’s place. Next is Caroline Tate and then Ferdinand Holmwood, both from Gryffindor.

Tamara Pembrock creates four fireballs, one red, one yellow and two black, and has them dance around the Hall mimicking a Quidditch match, with six glowing electric rings as goalposts. Next, Rose summons an impressive looking thunderstorm complete with a rain of fire that somehow doesn’t burn anyone touched by it.

“Truly your mother’s daughter,” Macmillan notes and Rose beams as Horace Bostock from Hufflepuff takes her place.

More students are called and Albus starts getting restless. Scorpius still hasn’t shown up. He walks up to where Professor Macmillan stands when he’s called and conjures a huge emerald-coloured fire snake that circles the Hall a couple of times with electric sparks shooting out of its eyes. Scorpius is still absent when he’s done.

Louis conjures a path of fire from end to end of the Great Hall and has the flames take the form of dancing veelas as thunders cackle above them. Finally, after the fire clears, Scorpius arrives and hastily rushes to Albus’ side.

“Where have you been?” Scorpius can barely contain himself when he answers.

“I did it!” he whispers, though it comes out louder than he intended, making a few heads turn.

“What do you mean?”

“I did it!” he repeats and Albus’ eyes bulge out.

“You made it work?”

“I tested it in Flitwick’s classroom. I figured, no room in Hogwarts is more magically charged than that, right? And it worked!” Scorpius explains hurriedly.

“Malfoy, Scorpius,” Macmillan calls.

“Showtime,” he says with a grin.

Scorpius walks over to meet their teacher and then heads to a nearby table, trying to get his nerves in check. He places his iPod on it and plugs it to a small set of portable speakers.

“Here we go,” he mutters, “you better not blow up on me.”

Scorpius casts a small spell to dim the lights and then taps his wand on the iPod once. Music starts to come out from the speakers, amplified clearly beyond the device’s power. The music is loud enough to drown Scorpius’ voice to the audience, but not enough that Professor Macmillan can’t hear him cast the spells beside him. The boy waits for the lyrics to start and begins.

 _I used to bite my tongue and hold my breath,_  
_Scared to rock the boat and make a mess,_  
_So I sat quietly, agreed politely._

A woman’s voice sings through the speakers and Albus huffs in disbelief. He can’t give credit to what his ears are hearing. Meanwhile Scorpius has begun conjuring small fireworks that go off above everyone’s heads.

 _I guess that I forgot I had a choice,_  
_I let you push me past the breaking point._  
_I stood for nothing, so I fell for everything._

The fireworks dance to the rhythm of the music and small lightning bolts appear beneath the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall.

 _You held me down, but I got up,_  
_Already brushing off the dust._  
_You hear my voice, hear that sound,_  
_Like thunder gonna shake your ground._

A loud thunder reverberates inside the Hall.

 _You held me down, but I got up,_  
_Get ready, ‘cause I’ve had enough._  
_I see it all, I see it now._

As the chorus begins, two silver girandolas materialise, framing a growing emerald Catherine wheel. The song goes on and Scorpius conjures different types of fireworks, which gradually disappear as there’s a pause in the song’s vocals.

_Roar, roar, roar, roar, ROAR!_

Several multicoloured thunders go off inside the Great Hall and, as the chorus kicks off once again, the fireworks come back full force.

 _I got the eye of the tiger, a fighter_  
_Dancing through the fire,_  
_‘Cause I am a champion and you’re gonna hear me roar._

The song approaches its end and the fireworks adopt the shape of the head of an enormous silver lion, which opens its huge jaws, like it’s ready to bite. Flanking the lion, spirals of green fire emerge from the buckets of water Macmillan had placed inside the Hall and enchanted to be ready to douse any stray fire. Scorpius’ fire columns, however, don’t seem to mind the water they’re springing from.

 _Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh._  
_Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh._  
_You’re gonna hear me roar!_

The song ends and a loud unnatural roar emerges from the fire lion’s mouth, then the figure dissolves in an explosion of pyrotechnics and the lights in the Hall go back on again. Scorpius’ work is received by a sound round of applause.

“That was an impressive display of spellwork, Mr. Malfoy,” Macmillan praises, “especially for the waterproof fire nobody else attempted, not to mention the way you managed to magically spark your music device into working. Well done, Mr. Malfoy, well done.”

 

“Blimey, that was incredible!” Albus exclaims as they exit the Great Hall and head to Hagrid’s hut to celebrate the end of exams.

“And you really made that iPod work, I can’t believe it,” Rose adds.

“Can I see it?” Louis asks curiously as Scorpius hands him the music player.

“But a lion, though? Did you forget what House you belong to?” Albus teases him.

“Well, I made it silver, didn’t I?” Scorpius defends and they all laugh.

Hagrid, always one to beware muggle artefacts, is sceptical at first when he’s shown the iPod, but warms up to it soon enough. Still, he finds the music he hears decidedly mugglish.

 

On a morning before the term is over, Albus approaches Yvain Zabini, who’s discussing Quidditch strategies with Scorpius.

“What is this?” Yvain asks as Albus hands him a piece of parchment.

“I won’t be joining the Quidditch team next year,” he explains dead serious.

“Very funny,” Yvain deadpans. Albus doesn’t blink. “You’re serious.”

“Of course he’s not serious,” Scorpius intervenes, “you are not quitting the Quidditch team.”

“Well, I am,” Albus declares.

“W — but — uh?” Scorpius can’t bring himself to form a full question. Since the day he first met him, Albus has always had Quidditch on his mind.

“I really don’t understand where this is coming from,” Yvain says.

“I need to figure a couple of things out for myself, and I don’t want Quidditch to be a factor while I do it,” Albus explains.

“I don’t understand, man. You were really good this season, especially on the last game.”

“It’s just … something I need to do.”

“I still don’t get it, but alright. Just so you know, we are months away from tryouts, so you can always change your mind,” Yvain assures him.

“I know that. I don’t think I will, but thanks anyway,” Albus says before retreating to his dorm.

 

“What the hell was that about?” Scorpius asks his friend after he chases after him. Albus is calmly packing what’s still left to get inside his trunk.

“I told you, there are a couple of things I need to figure out.”

“Don’t give me that dragondung, I’m your best mate!”

Albus takes a deep breath.

“Alright, you wanna know? All this year I felt like I just … drifted.”

“What? That’s not true!”

“But it is! This year you found your thing, you’re gonna be this crazy wizard slash muggle inventor, and Rose is the best of our year and James is becoming really serious about becoming an Auror and it just seems like everyone is finding their way and all I know about myself is that I look like my dad, and got the hair and the eyes like my dad and play Quidditch like my dad —”

“Your dad was a Seeker, you are a Chaser,” Scorpius interrupts.

“All the same, I feel like I’m the only one who hasn’t figured things out —”

“You’re thirteen! None of us really has, and there’s plenty of time.”

“And that’s great. Then I can take some time and look at things from a different perspective. Who knows? Maybe I’ll go back to Quidditch, there are tryouts every year, aren’t there?”

“Man, you’re overthinking this way too much.”

“Maybe I am, but right now this is what I need to do,” Albus states and they all stand in silence for a while, Scorpius trying really hard to put himself in his friend’s shoes.

“Alright, man, if you’re sure about it,” he says at last.

“I am.”

“Well, if anything, at least Rose will know what team to cheer for next year,” Scorpius says and Albus laughs.

“You’re her friend, she’s still gonna cheer for you, even if only to piss James off.” This time it’s Scorpius’ turn to laugh.

 

Scorpius runs to his dad as soon as he sees him standing in King’s Cross station.

“Dad! I did it!” he says, waving his iPod in front of his dad.

“Of course you did,” Draco agrees proudly, “you accomplish everything you set your mind to, even if it takes your poor father some time to understand it.”

“But you get it now?” Scorpius asks doubtfully, still unsure of how much his father approves of his fascination for all things muggle and if that somehow disappoints him.

“I get you’re passionate about it, and to me that’s all that matters,” Draco says and Scorpius smiles.

“Now, come on, let’s get you home so you can tell me all about that Transfiguration exam.”

“I’ve already told you all about it in my letter.”

“Maybe you did, and maybe I want to hear it again.”

“Alright, let’s go. Where’s mom?”

“Over there,” he says as he points a few yards away from them, where Astoria Malfoy is chatting animatedly with … Ginny Potter.

“She’s thanking the Potters for taking you in during the summer and Easter, and arranging for you to spend some time with them again this year, if you want to, of course.”

“Yes!” Scorpius whoops, “that’s awesome.”

Summer is gonna be long without being able to practice any magic, but Scorpius has something to look forward to now, he thinks as the Potter brothers wave goodbye to him on their way to the barrier. He knows it will only be a few weeks before he’s reunited with his best friends again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter.
> 
> In case you were wondering about how all the Weasley cousins and Scorpius look in my mind, I made this handy [Family Tree](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/blackcanine/29094293/2060/2060_original.png). Take a look.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: All pictures from next gen characters where taken from Pinterest, tweaked a bit in Photoshop to match cannon descriptions and the image I've got of them in my mind.
> 
> Also, if you're wondering how Harry's house at Godric's Hollow looks like, it's something like [this](http://www.roofcalc.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/03/Gable-Roof-on-a-House-with-a-Brick-Siding-1.jpg).


	3. The Sleeping Dragon Observer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Rose is thirteen years old, she discovers there’s some fight in her and fights a war or two, and her methods aren’t exactly the ones her mother would have wanted her to employ.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I want to apologize for the huge delay in updating this story. Real life has been hectic, but also challenging and fun, so I can't complain. I really wanted to have most of this story posted before _The Cursed Child_ came out, but sadly that couldn't be the case.
> 
> Anyways, if there's somebody still interested in this story, I hope you like this chapter.
> 
> I reckon it won't take me as long to update next part, as I've already got a pretty big chunk of it written.
> 
> Anyways, tell me what you think.

The first time Rose Weasley-Granger shows signs that she would be as precocious and above-average as her mother is when she’s one year old. Toddlers are expected to utter their first words around that age, but by Rose’s twelve-month birthday, she’s already got a rudimentary vocabulary consisting of six words: “mom” and “dad”, to address her parents; “book”, when she wants to entertain herself looking at colourful pages with moving pictures of baby animals; “magic”, to cheer every time her dad performs a silly trick to make her laugh; “again”, to demand he does it again, and, thanks to the baby mobile over her crib that father made for her, “Quaffle”.

Rose struggles with the words “brother” and “Hugo” when her little brother is born, but she becomes enamoured with the new member in their family so much that she gets frustrated for not getting the words right, so she resorts to call him “Go-Go”, a nickname that would stick for good, but only Rose would be allowed to call him that.

Rose learns to read earlier than the rest of her cousins, with the aid of a muggle children’s book her mother got her. Ron Weasley often teases his wife about not giving Rose a chance not to be a genius, but Hermione Granger merely rolls her eyes and keeps playing with their daughter to recognise the shape of the different letters.

Out of all the Weasley children, only the kids of Harry Potter and Hermione Granger attend muggle school, since they’re the only ones whose parents had any kind of contact with the muggle world. So, at the age of five, Rose and Albus Potter become classmates at their primary school in Devon, and develop a bond that would last beyond their childhood years.

Nobody is really surprised when Rose turns out to be as academically-oriented as her mother. Just like her cousin Al, she quickly becomes used to the comparisons, to be regarded as a mini Hermione, which doesn’t bother her as much as it seems to bug Al, but sometimes she finds herself wishing people didn’t think she’s smart just because she’s Hermione Granger’s daughter.

The comparisons don’t stop there, though, as Rose’s absolute intolerance for injustice becomes clear when she’s eight years old. A kid in Hugo’s class is being bullied, and Rose immediately heads to the principal’s office to report it, but the middle-aged man dismisses it as boys just being boys and does nothing about it. Next thing everyone knows, eight-year-old Rose is spearheading an anti-bullying campaign at school.

When that doesn’t stop the bully at Hugo’s class, the boy finds himself unable to walk inside his classroom, as the door keeps magically getting shut on his face every time he tries to cross the threshold. When the news reach Ron and Hermione, they think at first it was one of Hugo’s first manifestations of magic, and they are surprised to discover it was Rose, sitting in her classroom on the other end of the hallway, preventing the kid from getting close to his victim.

When the time comes for Rose to leave for Hogwarts, she’s already read at least the first half of all her text books, with a special emphasis on Adalbert Waffling’s _Magical Theory_ , just to make sure she’ll be ready for her first lessons, even when her cousin James explains to her that everyone does just fine even without cracking a book open once. Rose doesn’t care, though, and she already knows by heart the instructions for some basic potions.

There is no doubt on Hermione Granger’s mind as the train at platform nine and three-quarters takes her only daughter away to begin her Hogwarts education that Rose Weasley-Granger will grow up to be just like her: smart, driven, with a strong moral compass and, even if she’ll never say it out loud, she’s glad she didn’t seem to inherit the Weasley gene of mischief, which runs rampant in the rest of the family.

She could not have been more wrong.

 

“They’re here!” Rose exclaims as she looks out her bedroom window and rushes to the front door of her house, jumping over a bored-looking Hugo, who’s sitting in the middle of the stairs with his legs stretched across the staircase, flipping through a Quidditch magazine. The doorbell rings and Rose eagerly opens the door to greet her two best friends: Albus and Scorpius.

“You came!” Rose says as she hugs Scorpius.

“I came,” Scorpius repeats.

“We missed you at the Burrow, _again_ ,” she adds.

“Sorry.”

“You’re not, but whatever, come in,” Rose says as she motions the boys inside the house.

It’s her second summer since she started at Hogwarts and, though she’s eager to go back to school and learn all new kinds of magic, she cherishes the time she’s got with her friends and family. Just like the year before, Scorpius is in Godric’s Hollow for a couple of weeks and just like the year before, they’ll soon be leaving for Muggle London to visit Rose’s grandparents.

Unlike the week all members of the Potter-Weasley-Granger clan spend at the Burrow, where all cousins run around wild chasing each other and play Quidditch every afternoon, time at Godric’s Hollow allows for more intimate gatherings, with Rose, Albus and Scorpius sprawled on the grass of their back yards talking about everything and anything under the sun, and Teddy visiting James for much needed bro-time while Victoire is out with her girl friends from Ravenclaw.

Rose, Albus and Scorpius take long walks through Godric’s Hollow cobbled streets and alternate between hanging out at the Potter and the Weasley-Granger households.

“What is this I hear about you quitting the Quidditch team?” James asks Albus one evening they’re all chilling at the Potter’s living room.

“You quit the Quidditch team?” Rose asks surprised and Albus nods, “how come I’m just hearing about it until now?” They’ve spent the entire Summer together and Albus never once mentioned quitting the Quidditch team. At the inquiring looks of his family, Albus just shrugs.

“There are just some things I need to figure out on my own,” he mutters.

“Some things, some things, what things?” James asks before turning to Scorpius, “has he told you what things he needs to figure out?”

“Hey, that’s all I’ve been able to get out of him,” Scorpius replies. James turns his attention back to his brother.

“But, Al, you _love_ sports. Dad says you tried to run the second after you gave your first steps and I was there when you mounted your first toy broom, you _love_ to fly.”

“I’m not saying I don’t,” Albus defends.

“ _And_ you were the second best scorer in your House last season,” James adds.

“Considering the ranks include only four people, that’s not saying much,” Albus points out.

“Whatever, you are pretty good at it, and you made first string on your first year on the team.”

“Look, I’m not quitting because I sucked, ‘cause I know I didn’t, alright? It’s just something I had to do. And I don’t even know if it’s something definite, I can always try out again.”

James is still trying to wrap his head around the idea of his brother the sport junkie quitting the team when his mother arrives from the upper floor.

“Has your father arrived yet?” she asks as she looks at the longcase clock in the living room, all four kids shake their heads in response, “it’s nearly eight, he should’ve come back by now.”

“Probably some case took longer than usual,” James shrugs, “did you know Al quit the Quidditch team?”

“Yes, he mentioned it in one of his letters,” Ginny replies absentmindedly as she goes to the kitchen to check on the clock that displays the current location of every family member. Harry’s hand is pointing at “In mortal peril”, but that’s its usual position, so it doesn’t’ really mean anything.

“And you don’t think there’s anything wrong with that?” James asks.

“Your brother will do what he’ll have to do. Let me know when your father’s back, would you?” Ginny says as she goes back upstairs.

But another hour goes by and Harry isn’t back home. Kreacher has served them all dinner and all four kids and Ginny sit down to eat, but Ginny can’t stop stealing glances at the clock. They’re halfway through their stew when there’s a knock on the window signalling the arrival of an owl.

“I’ll get it,” Ginny says jumping off her seat and opening the window.

“It’s a special edition of _The Daily Prophet_ ,” she informs them while unfolding the paper to look at the front page, her face going white as she does so.

“Mom?” James asks, but Ginny is still too stunned to answer.

“Mom? What is it?” Albus asks as well.

“T — there’s been a chase at Diagon Alley,” she says at last, “your father was involved in it, it appears, and it looks like there was some fighting involved.”

Ginny sits back at the table and lays down the paper for everyone else to see. On the front page, there’s a photograph of a man being chased by two Aurors through the crowd at Diagon Alley, one of them clearly being Harry Potter.

 

 

 

Ministry of Magic’s interdepartmental chase at Diagon Alley

by Rita Skeeter

Jinxes and curses of all kinds flew this evening at Diagon Alley when members of the Ministry’s Auror Office chased one Kendrick Scarrwener, an Unspeakable at the Department of Mysteries, through the shops and stands of the most famous and populated commercial area in Wizarding England.

The chase, which took place this Wednesday around six o’clock in the afternoon, rapidly deteriorated into a duel right in the middle of the overcrowded street. At the centre of the action, of course, was the Head of the Auror Office Harry Potter, also known as The Boy Who Lived, famous for diving headfirst into life threatening situations, not the least of them being facing He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named over two decades ago.

Despite his current job description dictating more office paperwork than wayward wizard chasing, the so called Chosen One preferred to take part in the pursuit of Scarrwener than delegating this job to one of his younger and possibly fitter and quicker Aurors at his command, and was only accompanied by senior Auror Joseph Crickerly.

After a number of spells were traded between both Aurors and their Ministry-employed fugitive, with several instances of private property damaged as a result, Harry Potter was hit straight on the chest with an unidentified curse that put him out of the battle. Auror Crickerly’s younger age seemed to prevail, however, as he managed to subdue Kenneth Scarrwener and escort him to a detention facility at the Auror Headquarters. Meanwhile, a first response team of mediwizards disapparated Potter to St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.

When asked about the reason for an Unspeakable to be the target of the Auror Office, Milton Ketteridge, Head of the Department of Mysteries, refused to make a comment, as did Oswald Ollerton, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Harry Potter, due to the injury he sustained, was unreachable for interviewing. The only explanation given by Ketteridge was that Kenneth Scarrwener violated the rules and regulations of his own Department and of the Ministry of Magic itself.

The actual labour of Scarrwener within the Department of Mysteries, as well as that of any other Unspeakable, is, as the name suggests, not something that can be spoken about, which leaves us with a myriad of questions regarding the proper inner working of the Ministry of Magic:

What is so secret about the Department of Mysteries that no Ministry employee can even speak about? Is whatever these Unspeakables do for a living illegal or does it endanger the wellbeing of us citizens of the wizarding world? Was Scarrwener chased because he chose to disclose whatever enigma he was working on? Is it right for the Auror Office to put the secrecy of the Department of Mysteries before the safety of the wizards it is supposed to protect? Is it ethical? Who’s paying for the damage caused to private property in Diagon Alley? Should Harry Potter still be working on the field now that he’s Head of the Auror Office?

Alas, questions the Ministry and the people involved in this evening’s scrimmage will make sure go unanswered.

Rose’s barely done reading the final line when she hears the front door open.

“Hey, I’m home,” Harry calls from the entrance and is in no time engulfed by three sets of arms that trap him in a tight hug.

“Dad!” Albus exclaims in clear distress as his eyes roam his father’s body looking for signs of injury.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asks in surprise, getting no response from his kids, who are too busy appreciating his presence in the house. “Hey, what is it?”

Harry looks up to find there’s more people in the living room. Rose and Scorpius are a few steps behind, also showing signs of worry, and further ahead there’s Ginny. She doesn’t look distressed, though. No, she looks livid. Harry’s eyes zero in to the newspaper she’s holding in her hand; his face falls.

“Oh,” is all he manages.

“Oh,” Ginny agrees and Harry casts his eyes down in shame. “What exactly were you expecting to happen?” she asks in a tightly controlled anger, “‘Honey, I’m home, you wouldn’t believe the amount of paperwork today at the office’?”

“I —” Harry begins but the sentence dies on his lips at the sight of Ginny’s pissed of face. Ginny beckons him to the kitchen door with the slightest of gestures and Harry walks past his children, who have retreated sensing the tension in the room, and follows her wordlessly through the kitchen door.  
The walls, however, give them very little privacy.

“You are the _Head_ of the Auror Office, what were you doing going on a chase?! Aren’t you supposed to delegate?”

“This was a very delicate case, there were —”

“Unspeakables, I know. That doesn’t mean you have to go diving headfirst into danger like you’re seventeen again and back at Hogwarts.”

“It’s my job!”

“Not anymore! You were promoted.”

“That doesn’t mean I get to spend all day sitting on my … Capturing these people is still my job, okay?”

“And who are these people? Who’s this Scarrwener guy? He works for the Ministry, why was he on the run?”

There’s a brief silence where Rose, Scorpius and all three Potter kids stare at the kitchen door expectantly, but all they hear is Ginny huffing.

“Of course. You can’t tell me.”

“Even _I_ don’t know what it was all about, the Department isn’t saying anything, Ollerton is pissed out of his mind about it.”

“Alright, alright,” Ginny says, and after a pause she adds, “so what was it?”

“Huh?”

“The paper says you were hit by a curse, what was it?” But all that comes out of Harry’s mouth is an unintelligible mumble.

“Come again?” Ginny asks, the anger in her voice suddenly resurging. Harry mutters again.

“ _SECTUMSEPRA_?!” Ginny shrieks and all five teenagers’ eyes widen in horror before they all sprint off to the kitchen, no longer pretending they weren’t hanging onto every word exchanged by the two adults.

“Dad!” James exclaims in horror, staring at his father looking again for signs of injury, finding none.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” Harry tries to placate Ginny and the kids, “Scarrwener clearly didn’t know how to cast it properly, he probably only ever heard of it like everybody else, and the first response mediwizards are very well trained, that’s why I was discharged from St. Mungo’s. See? I’m alright.”

But Ginny isn’t appeased, her eyes are teary and she’s shaking her head in a clear disapproval.

“Hey, come here, I’m okay, I promise,” Harry says, his voice going soft as he approaches his wife to wrap her in a hug. He turns at the kids in the kitchen, all of them still in obvious distress. “I’m sorry I worried all of you,” he says earnestly.

“It’s okay, dad,” James says, “it’s your job.”

“And he wants to be an Auror too,” Ginny chokes, “Merlin!”

“Don’t worry, mom, the dream will probably die when he takes his O.W.L.s” Albus says, earning himself an elbow to the ribs, while Ginny and Harry break apart and Ginny glances at their magical clock, where Harry’s hand is now safely pointing at “Home”.

“We need a new clock,” she says, “one that says ‘In mortal peril. For real this time’.” That breaks the tension as the kids and Harry snort and giggle at Ginny’s comment.

 

The rest of the break flies by and soon they’re all going to the Granger’s for their annual weeklong stay at Muggle London, where Scorpius asks Harry to take him shopping for a camcorder.

“New project this year,” he explains to Rose when he eagerly opens the package and takes out the small handheld camera, “I wanna see if I can make it work the same way I did with my iPod.” Then he proceeds to read the instruction manual, wanting to make sure he knows how to use the foreign device right.

As expected, Hogwarts letters arrive during that week, containing Rose, Albus and Scorpius’ booklists for their third year, and James’ for fifth, while Lily and Hugo receive their first ever Hogwarts supply lists. Rose eagerly opens her letter and goes through it.

“Boy, the list is certainly longer this year … _Intermediate Transfiguration_ , good, we’re moving along… _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 3_ , no surprise there … _Healing at Home with Herbs_ , looks like we’ll be tending to medicinal plants with Professor Longbottom … _The Philosophy of the Mundane: Why Muggles Prefer Not to Know_ , I think we’ll be seeing the Statute of Secrecy with Dean … Oh, look! _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_! That one’s written by Lorcan and Lysander’s great-grandfather! … _The Monster Book of Monsters_ , that doesn’t sound good … _Ancient Runes Made Easy_ , _Spellman’s Syllabary_ and it looks like I’ll be needing a rune dictionary, though the list doesn’t specify one.”

“Parents are informed that mailing howlers to students is no longer permitted,” Scorpius reads, “glad to see that hasn’t changed.”

“I won’t be needing _Spellman’s Syllabary_ but I need to buy _Common Magical Ailments and Afflictions_ for Introduction to Magical Healing,” Albus notes as he goes through his own list, “and hey, look! The permission forms for Hogsmeade trips are here!” Albus and Scorpius high five.

 

The morning after finds them all at Diagon Alley, where the group is met by the Malfoys, who agreed, if a bit reluctantly on Draco’s part, to go shopping for their books together. Scorpius greets his parents with the wide grin that by know they’ve known to expect after he’s spent time with the Potters and asks them to go shopping for new Keeper gloves at Quality Quidditch Supplies.

“We will go there after we get your books,” Draco promises, “now let me see your list,” he adds as he takes the requested piece of parchment from Scorpius. “No. Absolutely not.”

“What is it?” Scorpius asks.

“You are not taking that class and I am not buying you _The Monster Book of Monsters_. I will owl McGonagall at once and inform her you’ll be taking some other elective.  Something more sensible, like Divination.”

“No!” Scorpius and Hermione gasp at the same time, making Draco look at Hermione with the most confused and scandalised expression. Hermione rapidly regains her composure, realising full well she just sounded like those mothers that think they know what’s best for other people’s kids and that she absolutely loathes, and knowing Draco probably doesn’t have the context as to why Hermione deems Divination unsuitable for his son.

“You are not taking that class,” Draco repeats turning his attention back to Scorpius.

“But dad!”

“And that’s final.”

“Oh, come off it,” Harry says, “can we just admit what happened with the hippogriff was _your_ fault?”

“What happened with the hippogriff?” Scorpius asks, curious. Draco looks like he’s trying really hard not to hex Harry into oblivion.

“Fine,” he spits through gritted teeth, “ _maybe_ the hippogriff was my fault, though it’s still absolutely irresponsible to bring XXX class creatures to introduce third-years to a Care of Magical Creatures class, but really, I am dying to see how you rationalise the blast-ended skrewts. Go ahead, Potter, give it a try.”

Harry sighs and tries to look as earnest as possible when he answers.

“Look, I know Hagrid went a little overenthusiastic when he first got to teach the class —”

“ _Overenthusiastic_? Well that’s a euphemism if I’ve ever heard one,” Draco snorts.

“What are blasted-ended —?” Scorpius begins to ask.

“Oh, they’re these cute head-less, eye-less, fire-spitting, blood-sucking lobster-like creatures daddy was asked to walk on a leash during his fourth year,” Draco replies, his voice dripping with sarcasm, and is rewarded by two unanimous and enthusiastic _cool!_ from Scorpius and Albus. Rose isn’t so convinced of the coolness factor, though. Draco looks like he’s inches away from having a stroke.

“But he’s sobered up a lot over the years,” Harry continues as if he hadn’t been interrupted, “he still uses hippogriffs for his introductory lessons, because they _are_ noble creatures, but he doesn’t go above XXX class until N.E.W.T. level lessons and he no longer tries to produce new breeds of magical creatures. I should know, as James and all my nephews and nieces have taken that class.”

“Well, I never thought I’d say this, but I certainly hope you don’t reach N.E.W.T. level in that class,” Draco says handing the booklist back to Scorpius, apparently resigned to another battle lost when it comes to his son’s choices. Scorpius, however, looks enthralled.

“New breeds of magical creatures?” he repeats excitedly, “cool!” Draco pinches the bridge of his nose.

 

Harry doesn’t even try to defend Hagrid’s choice of textbook when they arrive at Flourish and Blotts and they must buy _The Monster Book of Monsters_. He must admit, though, that the manager seems to be having less and less trouble handling the books over the course of the years.

“ _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ is an excellent book to begin the study of Care of Magical Creatures. I do not understand why the — why Hagrid needs to ask for this one too” Draco complains, making a conscious effort not to call Scorpius’ soon-to-be new teacher _the oaf_ , as he knows his son is friends with the man. Or half-man. Half-giant. Whatever. But no-one seems to be paying him any mind. Harry and Hermione are already asking the manager for two copies and Scorpius looks eager to get his hands on the beastly book.

Draco also purchases _Ancient Runes Made Easy_ , _The Spellman’s Syllabary_ as well as a runes dictionary Hermione recommends, while Harry takes his son in search of _Common Magical Ailments and Afflictions_. Afterwards they head to their traditional stop for ice-cream at Florean Fortescue’s, where Draco leaves Scorpius as he goes off to take a walk and clear his mind after a morning with the Potter-Weasley-Granger clan under the excuse of having to run some errands.

An hour later Scorpius, Draco and Astoria say goodbye and the rest of the group heads to Ollivanders to purchase Hugo and Lily’s wands. Rose busies herself perusing _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ as she waits for a wand to pick her brother. It seems to take longer than when she bought her own wand as she’s done with the first chapter and they still haven’t exited the shop, so she begins to look absentmindedly around the place, and then her eyes fall on a copy of _The Daily Prophet_ sitting on the counter. “Silence at the Ministry about Unspeakable arrest” the front page reads. Rose doesn’t have to look to know who the author is.

 

September first arrives and Rose runs to find an empty compartment with Albus and Scorpius, giving her brother some time alone with their parents. James is gone in an instant to find some other fifth-years and Lily, self-sufficient as ever, manages to make friends nearly as soon as she steps on the train.

When they arrive at the castle, Rose takes her seat at the Ravenclaw table and waits impatiently for the Sorting Ceremony to begin.

“Eager for classes to start?” fellow third-year Sebastian Queensbury asks beside her.

“Very. I can’t wait for our new classes to begin, especially Hagrid’s. Mom says the creatures he chooses to welcome new students with are just incredible,” Rose answers animatedly as Headmistress McGonagall walks inside the Great Hall followed by a row of nervous-looking first-years. Near the end of the line she spots Hugo, looking nervous and completely ignoring all the other kids’ expressions of awe at the sight of the enchanted ceiling.

“Someone you know starting this year?” Sebastian asks.

“My brother, my cousin and two friends of the family,” Rose replies.

“You think your brother will be in Ravenclaw like you?”

“Who knows? With the exception of two cousins in Slytherin, two more in Ravenclaw and myself, my entire family’s been in Gryffindor for generations,” Rose explains.

“We’ll see,” Sebastian shrugs as McGonagall begins calling the new students.

“Austin, Louise!”

A dirty blonde girl walks to the stool next to where McGonagall stands and allows the Headmistress to place the Sorting Hat over her head. A few seconds later, the Hat screams its decision.

“Hufflepuff!”

And Louise heads to the rightmost table, the one decorated with yellow and black.

“Barrow, Benjamin!”

The Sorting goes on and Rose scans the line of newcomers. She realises this will be the last time they’ll be seeing someone from their family getting sorted, until one of her cousins decides to have children. Victoire and Teddy form the oldest couple in their generation, but one never knows.

“Creevey, Oliver!” McGonagall calls and a short, mousy-haired kid walks clumsily to the stool.

“Gryffindor!”

Over at the Gryffindor table, she sees most of her cousins cheer. James is being as loud and rambunctious as ever, while Lucy is doing her best at looking like the seventh-year prefect and Head Girl she now is.

“Potter, Lily!”

“That your cousin?” Sebastian asks as the red-haired girl walks with confident steps to meet McGonagall.

“Yeah,” Rose replies distractedly. It doesn’t take the Hat a second to make up its mind.

“Gryffindor!”

There’s a veritable explosion of cheers at the scarlet and gold table as the youngest Potter makes her way to the House of both her mother and father’s family, James, Roxanne, Lucy and Fred going wild with joy. At the Slytherin table, Albus and Louis look like they’re not surprised in the least. Neither is Rose.

“Predictively,” she declares.

There’s a small commotion when the Scamander twins are called, as most of the students present at the Hall recognise the last name.

“Scamander, Lorcan!”

“Hey, like the guy who wrote our book for Care of Magical Creatures!”, Sebastian says as the first of the two blonde, blue-eyed identical boys takes his seat at the stool.

“He’s his great-grandson,” Rose explains.

“Oh, really? You know him?”

“His mother is a friend of the family,” she explains as the Hat screams.

“Ravenclaw!”

“And she was a Ravenclaw, so …” Rose shrugs.

“Scamander, Lysander!”

“Oh, look! They’re twins!” Sebastian needlessly points out.

“Ravenclaw!”

“And both Ravenclaws, I see,” he adds as he claps for his House’s newest additions.

Finally, there are only two students left: Hugo and a girl with jet black hair tied in a long pigtail.

“Weasley-Granger, Hugo!”

Rose’s brother puts on the Hat, which takes a few moments to announce:

“Hufflepuff!”

The yellow and black table cheers as usual, but there’s some degree of surprise over at the Gryffindor’s. Eight years ago, Victoire became the first Weasley to be sorted in Ravenclaw in a very long time, followed by her sister Dominique four years later and by Rose, two years after that.

On that same year, Louis and Albus became the first ever Weasleys to be sorted in Slytherin and now Hugo becomes the first Hufflepuff in the family in Merlin knows how long.

The surprise shown in her cousins’ faces, however, is nothing like the one that ran through everyone’s systems when Albus and Louis where placed at the green and silver House two years earlier. This time around it’s more like an _oh, look at that_ kind of surprise.

There’s something else too. Rose nearly misses it, focused as she is on her brother, but before turning her attention back at Hugo making himself at home at the House of the badger, she catches a glimpse of the decidedly mischievous look shared between Albus and James from their respective tables and she knows exactly what that look means: for the first time in possibly forever, there is a Weasley in every House.

 _Oh, no_ , she thinks as Leanne Youdle is placed in Slytherin, marking the end of the Sorting Ceremony.

 

As every year, the access to their common room during the first night back is not as swift as in other Houses, as the seventh-year prefects explain to the new kids the way their enchanted knocker works. When Rose arrives at the base of the spiral staircase that leads to the Ravenclaw Tower, there’s a large row of first-years blocking the way up trying to guess the answer to the riddle they were posed.

“I am the beginning of everything, the end of time and space, the beginning of every end, and the end of every place,” the musical voice coming from the eagle-shaped bronze knocker repeats after prefect Jordan Carmichael knocks again.

Rose grins and immediately knows the answer. Most of the new kids are going out of their way trying to come up with some magic-related responses, but Rose knows the knocker never asks anything that would require knowledge about magic to the newcomers, especially since some of them are muggle-born. Instead, the questions are usually oriented to test their logic.

The Scamander twins turn to Rose and mouth a silent _help us_ to her, but Rose merely shrugs with a grin. The whole point is to let the new ones answer, after all. Finally, a round-faced girl with black pixie-cut hair opens her eyes widely and eagerly raises her hand.

“I know, I know, it’s the letter e!” she exclaims.

“Brilliantly deduced!” the musical voice answers and the door to their common room finally unlocks, prompting a round of applause from the rest of the first-years.

“Excellent!” Jordan Carmichael says to the girl, “what is your name?”

“Emma Murray,” the girl replies.

“Well, congratulations, Emma. You just became the first in your class to correctly guess an answer to the knocker’s riddles,” Jordan says, making the new girl beam with pride.

 

Classes start the very next day and Rose can hardly wait to see what they have in store for the third-years. However, she takes the time to find Hugo after breakfast to make sure he got settled in alright at the Hufflepuff common room.

“Oh, it’s great,” Hugo exclaims, “it’s so warm and homey and it’s next to the kitchens, so it always smells good. It almost reminds me of the Burrow, but with less noise, you know? And you won’t believe how we get in. Instead of a password, you have to knock on the entrance with a very specific knock. If you don’t get it right, you get doused with vinegar.”

“Ha! Sounds fun,” Rose says, “are your cousins giving you a hard time for not being in Gryffindor?”

“Nah, I think after Al and Louis got sorted in Slytherin, nothing will ever top that. I like it here, you know, it’s more my lot, I guess.”

“I’m happy you’re happy, Go-Go. Have you written to mom and dad?”

“Already did, hope dad isn’t too disappointed.”

“Poor dad: two kids, none of them in Gryffindor. He’ll act like it’s the end of the world but you know he’s only teasing.”

“Yeah, I know. Well, I let you to your classes, I know you’re nearly bursting with excitement over them,” Hugo taunts.

“Oh, shut up,” Rose says with a blush.

 

As eager as she was for classes to begin, Rose wasn’t expecting the sudden decrease of theory in favour of a pronounced increase of practice. After the year they spent at mastering basic conjuration, Professor Macmillan announces they’ll be going back to transforming things in his class and dives right into it by turning a small gecko into a yellow tourmaline embroidered onyx bracelet. He then asks them to do the same to the little reptiles they’re handed.

It takes her a while, but Rose becomes the first in the class to get the job done, presenting the teacher with a beautiful bronze bracelet with small sapphires engraved into it, which earns her her first points for her House.

For his part, her Head of House, Professor Flitwick takes it up a notch and informs them they’ll be mostly trying spells specifically meant to be used on people. He starts the year’s lessons teaching them an Awakening Charm, and then asks them to work in pairs where one student drinks a sip of a mild Sleeping Potion Flitwick hands them and the other one tries to wake him up.

It is by far the hardest spell they’ve learnt so far and Rose struggles to wake up Brittany Fladbury, who’s quietly snoring with her head propped up on her arms.

“ _Vigilio_! … _Vigilio_! … Merlin, it’s useless!” Rose complains.

“Now, now, let’s try again, just remember the wrist movements are subtler: fast, then slow, then fast, but in one swift motion,” Flitwick instructs.

“ _Vigilio_!” she tries again following Flitwick’s directions and Brittany Fladbury wakes up with a startle.

“Very good!” Flitwick cheers.

Ravenclaws are statistically the quickest spell learners, meaning by the time the lesson is over, not only Rose, but most of the class has managed to get the spell right. Gregory MacDougal and Liam Claverdon seem particularly happy taking turns falling asleep and waking each other up.

Professor Higgs follows the trend of adding complexity to their lessons by having them brew a Shrinking Solution on their first day, whose difficulty is proven when Horace Bostock from Hufflepuff makes his cauldron explode and fills the dungeons with fetid orange smoke. Meanwhile, Professor Dawlish gives duelling a rest and has them face their very first boggart.

What Rose is really waiting for, of course, are their new classes. She runs eagerly to her Study of Ancient Runs lesson where Professor Babbling teaches them the basics of the runic alphabet, which, as much as it fascinates her, it is nothing compared with the joy of seeing live hippogriffs for the first time at Care of Magical Creatures.

Just like Potions, Ravenclaws share that class with the Hufflepuffs, which means there’s a large crowd surrounding the huge black winged beasts. Hagrid doesn’t seem to mind and shows them how to properly greet the imposing creatures, being very firm about not disrespecting them. He promises them all that if they take good care of them, by the end of the term he’ll let them ride them, but only if the hippogriffs are agreeable.

“They’re as amazing as our parents told us!” Rose gushes during the Herbology lesson she shares with Albus and Scorpius, where they learn to differentiate healing herbs from poisonous lookalikes.

“We don’t have that class until Friday, I can’t wait,” Albus says.

“How are the rest of your classes going?” Rose asks.

“We just had our first Muggle Studies class with Dean —” (Scorpius closes his eyes and cringes in sheer disapproval at the use of the teacher’s first name) “— and I just had my first lesson of Magical Healing. It sounds interesting, certainly better than that rune thing Scorpius is studying.”

“Oh, but it’s great!” Rose argues, “Personally, I find runes absolutely fascinating. Oh, don’t touch that!” she exclaims as she bats Scorpius’ hand away before he picks a leaf of poison ivy.

The only let down is, as usual, History of Magic. Rose spends the class absentmindedly scribbling notes of whatever Professor Binns is droning about while some of the Gryffindors she shares the class with decide they’ll use the hour to catch up on some much needed sleep.

It is after one of those excruciatingly long History of Magic classes when Rose spots her cousins Albus and James cornering Hugo in one of the hallways.

“So …” James begins with a mischievous grin, which Albus mirrors perfectly, “is it true, then?”

“What is?” Hugo asks, immediately suspicious of his cousins’ intentions.

“That the Hufflepuff common room has the cosiest furniture of all four Houses, of course,” Albus clarifies.

“It is,” Hugo replies, straightening up in a clear defying gesture, “and we also have the best anti-intruder measures.”

“Oh, you mean the vinegar?” James asks unimpressed, “the one that’s poured over anyone who gets your secret knock wrong?”

“Very special vinegar, one you wouldn’t be able to wash the smell of for weeks,” Hugo replies.

“Then we better get the door knock right, don’t we?” James smiles.

“I mean, really, over a thousand years and you’re telling me no outsider has ever learned to do the super secret Hufflepuff door knock right?” Albus adds.

“Alright, you two, stop it,” Rose finally intervenes, “you are not bullying Hugo into getting you inside his House.”

“But Rose …” James whines.

“…we want to know their couches,” Albus finishes.

“You are not getting inside his House” Rose repeats.

“How about inside your House?” James asks, making Rose scoff.

“I’ll take you right now, and watch you two Neanderthals try to figure out the right answer to get in.”

“That’s why we have Scorpius,” Albus quips.

“Has your Slytherin wonder boy figured out an answer yet?” Rose asks, followed by a prolonged silence from the boys, “I didn’t think so.”

“But come on, Rose, we’re family,” James whines, “what if we want to visit lil’ Go-Go here?”

“Then I’ll teach you a secret door knock, though I don’t promise it will be the right one,” Hugo says with a predatory smile, “and you don’t get to call me that.”

“I’ll tell you what, you want inside our Houses?” Rose says, “fine, why don’t you two wonder brothers let each other into your own common rooms first?” Rose says. That seems to give the brothers pause. “I figured,” Rose snorts.

 

Classes pick up at a frantic speed, from the Awakening Charm they move onto the Soothing Charm with Flitwick, and Professor Thomas alternates between the intricacies of the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy and the aspects of muggle life that wizards have adopted over the centuries, like plumbing. They begin working with larger animals in Transfiguration and Rose loses track of the number of creatures they learn to care for with Hagrid or to fight against with Dawlish.

And it’s not only the third-years that are overworked, even James seems to be taking his studies more seriously, as there’s been a distinct lack of pranking by his hand.

“This is it,” he tells Rose and Albus one afternoon when they’re all studying at the library, “I either pass all my O.W.L.s with Exceeds Expectations or Outstanding, or I can kiss the Auror dream goodbye.”

“How many O.W.L.s do you need?” Albus asks.

“Transfiguration, Charms, Potions, Herbology, Defence Against the Dark Arts and Introduction to Magical Healing. And at least an Acceptable in Muggle Studies, as Aurors often have to go undercover in the muggle world,” James recounts, “I mean, I talked to mom and dad, I told them I was considering skipping my History of Magic and Astronomy examinations altogether, they weren’t very thrilled about it.”

“You can’t do that!” Rose exclaims, “even if you don’t get top marks, you have to at least take the tests.”

“That’s what they said, but in all honesty, even if I do, I am not spending a second studying for those classes, I’ve got enough on my plate with Vanishing Spells as it is. Plus, Fred’s doubling the work at training sessions, he really wants to win the Quidditch Cup before he graduates.”

“Yeah, because Quidditch is more important than History of Magic,” Rose deadpans, her voice dripping with sarcasm, but is met by two matching blank stares from James and Albus. She sighs in defeat, “yeah, I can’t really defend that class,” she agrees in the end.

 

Quidditch season begins and soon it’s time for the opening match of the year: the traditional Slytherin vs. Gryffindor face-off. Even if the animosity between both Houses has died down over the years, the rivalry is still going strong when it comes to Quidditch.

“We have an entirely new lineup this year,” Scorpius tells Rose one morning she sits with him at the Slytherin table, “with Lucinda Warrington graduating and Al quitting the team both Tamara Pembrock and Andrew Dunbar became starting Chasers. Eirik Rowle is gone too, so we have a new Beater as well.”

“I hear Gryffindor stays the same, and Fred really wants to win the Cup this year,” Rose comments.

“Tough luck,” Scorpius shrugs.

 

Rose finds herself walking with Albus and Louis to the Slytherin side of the stands when the day of the game arrives, though she makes it a point not to dress with anything that identifies her as either a Slytherin or a Gryffindor supporter, her robes and scarf a stubborn blue.

“Don’t start, I’m sitting here because I hang out with you and Louis, but I am not cheering for any one team,” she admonishes Albus, who looks pretty smug to see her joining them at the stands as they find some empty seats at the top. On the front row, Draco and Astoria Malfoy are waiting for the game to being. Across the pitch, Rose spots Harry and Ginny sitting among the Gryffindors.

“I bet this is what the old times looked like,” she mutters under her breath as Professor Alicia Spinnet blows her whistle, signalling the start of the game.

“Jane Caruso is in possession of the Quaffle … she passes to Diana Ryder … Ryder throws back to Caruso … Caruso passes to Jackson Abercrombie, but Tamara Pembrock steals the Quaffle right out of Abercrombie’s hands!” Ravenclaw’s Kevin Turpin’s commentary begins.

“Pembrock had a brief but bright participation last year, when she scored the winning goal against Gryffindor, now she’s starting Chaser and is showing us why! … Pembrock passes to Yvain Zabini … Zabini passes to Andrew Dunbar who aims at the goal … Dunbar aims and —” Turpin’s commentary is interrupted by Professor Spinnet blowing her whistle.

“It looks like Gryffindor’s Seeker James Potter caught the Snitch!” Turpin shrieks, “I can’t believe it! This has got to be the fastest catch Hogwarts has seen in decades! Decades!”

The Gryffindors on the stands are cheering so loudly the noise is almost deafening, while Rose, Albus and Louis stare dumbfounded at the pitch with their mouths hanging open. The rest of the Slytherins also look too shocked to even make a sound.

“What the …?” Rose hears Albus begin, but the question dies in his mouth as James flies a triumphant loop around the pitch, his hand high in the air clutching the Snitch tight.

“Well, this is it. Gryffindor scores its first victory of the season and leads the table with seven points after a 150 difference win. Don’t miss Ravenclaw versus Hufflepuff in two weeks from today, whose commentary will be brought to you by my pal Derek Branstone, from Gryffindor. See you in two weeks!” Kevin Turpin recites as everyone begins to leave the stands, Albus and Louis still staring at the field in disbelief, they don’t even register the Malfoys going down to the pitch to meet with an equally dumbfounded Scorpius.

 

Gryffindor’s astounding victory over Slytherin is all the talk during the following days. Whenever Rose meets with Albus and Scorpius during Herbology lessons, all Scorpius ever talks about is their new training regime under Yvain Zabini’s instructions.

“He’s killing us, I’m telling you,” he tells them as they transplant dittany sprouts, “he’s being especially hard on Glenda Urquhart, you know? She wants her in top shape when she faces off against Dominique next year. And he’s pushing me hard as well, we can’t afford to get scored on if we still want to win the Cup.”

“I still can’t believe how James caught the Snitch so fast,” Albus comments.

“All that training with Fred paid off, I guess,” Rose reckons, “I hear all Seekers are aiming to stop the game as fast as they can, that’s their strategy against Scorpius’ mad Keeper skills.”

“Makes sense, if they let the game go on for too long, the point difference becomes too much, like last year, what with Scorpius having the highest success rate at stopping goals. All Houses are adjusting their strategy accordingly,” Albus says.

“That sure puts no pressure on me at all,” Scorpius mutters.

 

It is during the week after the start of Quidditch season that Professor Thomas announces they’ll be taking their next few Muggle Studies lessons on the Quidditch pitch instead of the classroom.

“For the next few weeks we’ll be diving into a rather large part of muggle life: sports,” he tells the students as they gather around the place where he stands with a perfectly spherical ball under one of his feet, “here in the wizarding world we have Quidditch, of course, as well as its American variation, Quodpot. We also have broom racing and some magical games like gobstones and wizarding chess. You’ll see the variety in the muggle world is far vaster.”

“Oh, Al is gonna love this,” Rose murmurs to herself and wonders if the Slytherins have already taken this class.

“Alright, so first, we’ll start with one of Britain’s most popular muggle sports: football.”

There’s a groan of annoyance from the kids raised in the wizarding world, while the muggle-borns look delighted.

“I know, I know, some of you probably doubt there’s anything special to a game where nobody flies and there’s only one ball, but let’s give it a try, alright?” Professor Thomas says, “Now, let’s start with the basics.”

Dean explains the basic rules of the game, and starts with a couple of easy exercises to get them acquainted with the ball. It takes a while for some of the students to manage to move the ball around using only their feet, but some others, like Dylan Johnson, seem to be right in their element. Rose struggles a bit with the ball and wonders how Albus can enjoy this game so much, but reckons she doesn’t do as bad as she thought she would.

After they’ve all gained at least a small measure of control over the ball, Dean decides it’s time for a quick game, which ends with Sebastian Queensbury taking a ball to the back of his head and Brittany Fladbury scraping her knee and refusing to return to the game.

Turns out the Slytherins had the same class later that day, and Albus doesn’t even wait for Herbology class to tell Rose all about it, so he drags Scorpius with him to the Ravenclaw table during lunch, where he proceeds to rave about the time spent at the pitch.

“It was awesome, Dean somehow managed to get all the Slytherins to play, even though there are no brooms, and most of them actually liked it. He put Score and me in different teams, otherwise it would’ve been unfair. He played goalkeeper, of course, but we still won.”

“You’re never gonna let me live that down, are you?” Score asks.

“Probably not,” Albus shrugs and grins smugly.

“Dean says he’ll be teaching us about many different sports until Winter break,” Rose intervenes, not really in the mood to watch two of the most competitive people she knows butt heads with each other during her lunch time, “I wonder what they’ll be.”

“Rugby has a big following in Britain, it’s like the only muggle sport wizards ever follow,” Scorpius points out, “but there were too many accidents today, I can’t imagine what would happen if we attempted to play rugby,” then he proceeds to detail the cut Nathaniel Lofthouse got on his right eyebrow.

“We’ll probably play basketball and volleyball, which are pretty standard for muggle secondary schools,” Albus guesses, “man, I really miss muggle school sometimes, you know? There were so many options. Do you know muggles even have these games where all countries compete in every sport? Next year they’re supposed to be in Japan. It sounds pretty awesome. Here we only play one sport.”

“And you chose to quit it,” Scorpius deadpans.

“I hate to bug you about it, but I think everyone’s right: if there’s one thing you’ve loved practically since you were born, it’s sports, you shouldn’t let all these comparisons between you and uncle Harry stop you from playing Quidditch,” Rose tells Albus, who looks rather uncomfortable to be having this conversation.

“It’s not just that, you know? I mean, I really love flying, I love the adrenaline of being on a broom, but somehow, the game itself didn’t capture me the way I thought it would. Like, I still love watching it, or playing it occasionally, but not enough to fully commit, if that makes sense.”

“It doesn’t,” Scorpius says. Albus hits the table with his head in defeat.

 

Rose drags Albus, Scorpius and Louis to the Ravenclaw side of the stands when her House faces off against Hufflepuff, even if Hugo calls both his cousins traitors. Scorpius brings with him his new camcorder, confident it will work on the stands.

“I did the same thing I did with the iPod: I removed the battery and tried to make it magic-fuelled instead, let’s see how it goes,” he says as he starts recording the game.

Unlike the previous match, the game seems to go on forever as both teams score on a regular basis. Scorpius laments not buying the tripod he saw at the store where he bought his camcorder as his arm begins to cramp. In the end he decides to have it magically hover with his wand.

“You should’ve bought a drone,” Dylan Johnson says from the seat behind him, “it flies on its own and records from the air.”

“I’ll keep it in mind for next time,” Scorpius says as he directs the camcorder from his seat while Jonathan Davies from Ravenclaw flies the Quaffle through the Hufflepuff goalposts.

“Yes!” Rose exclaims as she stands up to cheer her House team. Johnson is still fisting the air in celebration when everyone’s attention turns to the chase going on between Dominique Weasley and Martin Belby.

“It looks like both Seekers have spotted the Snitch!” Derek Branstone exclaims excitedly to the audience, “and none of them lets the other take the lead … and that’s a Bludger thrown expertly by Edgar Wildsmith, and it forces both Seekers to make a sharp turn to avoid it … They’re back at the chase … The Snitch is right there … right there …”

Professor Spinnet’s whistle blows and all the audience can see is Dominique and Martin hovering mid-air stuck in what looks like a truly awkward handshake.

“It’s a disputed capture!” Derek Branstone announces, “both Seekers seem to have caught the Snitch at the same time!”

“Quick, get the camera, let’s see who caught it first!” Rose urges Scorpius and the blond boy snatches the camcorder and scrambles to replay the last few minutes of the game, Rose and Albus hovering over him to take a look. On the small camcorder screen, it looks like Dominique got to the Snitch first, if only by the shortest margin.

“It’s ours, it’s ours!” Rose shrieks.

“Still have to wait for Spinnet to call it, they’re checking the Snitch right now,” Albus points out, but Rose is too excited to listen.

“It’s ours, it’s ours!” she repeats.

Professor Spinnet blows her whistle again, before casting an Amplifying Charm on her voice.

“The ball’s flesh memory has been examined,” she informs, “and it was Dominique Weasley who caught the Snitch. Ravenclaw wins the game 330 to 150”. The last of her words are drowned by the deafening roar of the Ravenclaws, as the sea of blue and bronze goes wild at the announcement.

“We won, we won, we won!” Rose exclaims as she jumps up and down her seat.

 

Ravenclaw’s victory over Hufflepuff ties the former with Gryffindor in the general point table, leaving both Hufflepuff and Slytherin eager to get a win when the season resumes after Winter break. Before the holidays start, however, all third-years seem to talk about is the final Care of Magical Creatures lesson of the term, where Hagrid will allow them to ride a hippogriff, if he considers they’re ready and deems the winged creatures agreeable.

“Alright, as we’ve done before, firs’ yeh look at ‘em in the eye an’ remember not to ter blink. Wait a second or two then bow. If the hippogriff bows back, then yeh’re clear to touch them,” Hagrid explains when it comes the turn for the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, “since yeh’ve done it a couple o’ times, they’ll let yeh without much fuss. After yeh’ve petted ‘em fer a while, place yer hand firmly on their back an’ wait. If the hippogriff doesn’ back away, then yeh can mount it. Who wants ter go first?”

Johana Portchester from Hufflepuff and Gregory MacDougal from Ravenclaw raise their hands at the same time.

“Right. Come here, Johana,” Hagrid instructs and the long brown-haired girl comes forward and steps right in front of one of the hippogriffs, looking at it right in the eye before bowing her head. The black-feathered beast looks almost eager as he recognises her and bows immediately, allowing Johana to pet him on the back of his neck.

“Good job, Johana!” Hagrid beams, “now, let ‘im know you want to mount ‘im. Gregory, yeh go with tha’ one over there.”

Johana and Gregory get their hippogriffs to agree to ride them and soon they take off towards the lake, where they make a few laps before raising all the way to the Astronomy tower, then they make their descent back to the front of Hagrid’s hut. Both kids climb off the hippogriffs with delighted expressions on their faces.

“It was amazing!” Johana exclaims as she joins the rest of the class, Gregory nodding his agreement behind her.

“Good job, both of yeh,” Hagrid praises, “who’s next?” This time Rose steps forward as well as Sebastian Queensbury.

“Yeh know wha’ ter do.”

It’s an almost spiritual experience on so many levels for Rose. First there’s the initial fear, as she’s not the happiest when it comes to flying, always preferring to watch Quidditch from the stands than taking part of it, and also the knowledge that hippogriffs are far more temperamental than brooms. Next is the adrenaline of actually being airborne, and also the humbling notion that the hippogriff is trusting her to ride on its back.

Fine drops of water splash on her face as the hippogriff’s claws graze the edge of the Great Lake, and her hair falls on her eyes when they fly against the wind towards the treeline of the Forbidden Forest. By the time it’s time to go back, Rose is whooping loudly to the air.

 

“It was the most amazing thing!” she tells Albus, Scorpius and Louis when she finds them discussing Quidditch with Jackson Abercrombie from Gryffindor during lunch.

“Man, I can’t wait ‘till Friday,” Albus says eagerly, “it sounds so awesome.”

“Oh, Al, it is, it really is.”

“It will be a nice way to end the term,” Scorpius adds, “and to forget afterwards we have to go back home.”

“But you like going home,” Louis says, confused.

“Home is alright, but at Christmas we always have dinner with all my four grandparents, and it’s always awful. It’s like both sides of my family hate each other and blame mom and dad for getting married and the three of us get stuck in the middle of two sets of angry grandparents.”

“Oh, I can relate,” Albus says, “Christmas is when we go visit the muggles.”

“You’ve got muggle family?” Jackson asks.

“My dad’s cousin. His parents are the kind of muggles that made the Statute of Secrecy necessary, they treated my dad horribly for being a wizard, but somehow he and his cousin reconciled, so on Boxing Day we drop by for a visit. A very boring visit where we pretend to be muggles because his wife and kids have no idea magic exists.”

“Harsh,” Jackson says, “are they nice at least?”

“They’re alright, I guess,” Albus shrugs, “James, Lily and I don’t really like dad’s cousin, but we can tell he tries to be extra nice to dad to make up for whatever he did when they were kids. His wife is always friendly, though, but their oldest kid is the biggest nerd.”

“Nothing wrong with being a nerd,” Scorpius quips.

“Glad you’re finally owning up to it,” Albus counters with a wide grin.

“Shut up,” Scorpius says, playfully poking Albus in the ribs with his elbow, “I’ll tell you what, I’ll trade places with you this year: I go hang out with your nerd muggle cousin and you go to Christmas dinner with my grandparents.”

“Gladly,” Albus grunts.

“You should really spend some of the break with us at the Burrow,” Rose intervenes.

“Yeah, you have to stop fearing my grandparents, they really don’t care you’re a Malfoy,” Albus agrees.

“My dad actually likes you, and that’s saying a lot, if you consider he wanted me to beat you in all our classes when we started at Hogwarts,” Rose points out.

“You _do_ beat me in all our classes,” Scorpius counters, before adding with a smirk, “except Charms, of course.”

“And Flying two years ago, don’t forget Flying two years ago,” Albus adds.

“Oh, you two are terrible,” Rose laughs, “I take it back, I don’t want to see any of your ugly mugs during the break.”

“Hey, what about me?” Louis complains.

“You can come,” Rose states and they all laugh.

 

The final day of the term Scorpius’ owl Hunter finds Rose at the Ravenclaw table during lunch. The Slytherins haven’t arrived from their hippogriff riding lesson and Hunter is agitated, anxious to find its owner.

“What is it, Hunter?” Rose asks as she pets the fluttering wings of the eagle owl, noticing the envelope attached to its legs, “you’ve got something for Score?” The owl hoots. “It shouldn’t be long.”

At that moment all third-year Slytherins and Gryffindors stomp inside the Great Hall, still high on the excitement of hippogriff riding. Albus, Scorpius and Louis quickly make their way to where Rose is sitting.

“Rose, Rose! You were right! It was the coolest thing ever!” Albus shrieks.

“Mate, it was awesome!” Scorpius agrees as he notices his pet owl, “hey, Hunter.” The bird lifts its leg and urges Scorpius to take the letter.

“You’ve got something for me, huh? Alright, let’s see … It’s from dad,” Scorpius smile promptly disappears from his face as he reads. “Dear son, I know you’ve decided to stop receiving news from _The Daily Prophet_ , but you’ll see how it’s important for you to know what’s been published in it. I know what’s been written is upsetting, but I want to assure you that despite what this woman writes, you are not in trouble. Love, dad.”

Rose can feel her facial expression become downright murderous, and she can tell Albus and Louis are experimenting the now familiar rage they’ve come to associate with _The Daily Prophet_.

“What is it this time?” Rose fumes.

“My dad attached a cut from today’s edition,” Scorpius says as he reads the paper clipping, “bloody hell!”

 

 

 

Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy, delinquency comes with the family name

by Rita Skeeter

Wizarding families have a knack of passing down hobbies, occupations and talents along with physical traits from one generation to the next. Take the Ollivanders, for one: a long line of prestigious and talented wandmakers that have perfected with every generation the art of fabricating the magic wands we use. Some other families, however, pass down much grimmer family traits. Case in point: the Malfoy family.

It is no secret the affiliation with the Dark Arts the Malfoy family has harboured over the years, with former Death Eater Lucius Malfoy as the most prominent example. The ruthless Malfoy patriarch was known during his brighter days as an extreme supporter of pro pureblood policies and even linked to the gruesome muggle-born cleanse that occurred at Hogwarts nearly thirty years ago by the way of a giant basilisk that roamed the castle’s plumbing. Of course, what wrote his name firmly in the pages of infamy was his affiliation with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

Then there’s his son, Draco Malfoy, also a former Death Eater, though his stint among the supporters of You-Know-Who was far shorter than that of his father. Draco Malfoy was, as most would remember, exonerated from all crimes due to an unlikely and frankly hard to believe statement from the man he antagonised during the entirety of his Hogwarts years: none other than Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived himself. Meanwhile, Lucius Malfoy avoided Azkaban by providing allegedly useful information that aided in the capture of several other Death Eaters.

The seemingly endless line of delinquents the Malfoy family name is attached to continues, over twenty years after the war, with one Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy, son of Draco Malfoy, and currently a third-year student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where he decided England’s magical laws should not apply to him.

I’m referring to the constant and overt violations to the laws put in place by the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office (incidentally, written by Scorpius Malfoy’s alleged best friend’s grandfather, Arthur Weasley), which explicitly prohibit any wizard from enchanting or otherwise magically tampering with any kind of muggle artefact. This, of course, for the protection of both wizards and muggles alike.

Young Scorpius Hyperion has taken to purchase last generation muggle technology and charm it in such a way that it works in the magically charged environment of Hogwarts without it going caput. After enchanting a music playing artefact and an image capturing device, this Malfoy spawn has even made clear his intentions of moving on to bigger pieces of muggle inventions.

Some may say this is a leap from the traditional anti-muggle posture taken by the Malfoy family, but let’s not forget that during his time at the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office, now retired Arthur Weasley made it his personal vendetta to capture Lucius Malfoy in his alleged attempts of tampering with muggle objects with the intention of causing harm to unsuspecting non-magical victims.

It should also be noted that Scorpius’ blatant and repeated violations to our laws are met with blind eyes by the teaching staff and some may say even encouraged by some of the professors at the magic school.

Can we feel safe knowing the youngest child of a family of Death Eaters is wandering the extremely unchartered territories of muggle technology and experimenting with it? Can we feel safe knowing the adults we trust to keep our children safe at Hogwarts are choosing to turn the other way as he does so? Probably not. Should the Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office, Quentin Quince, look into this? Most definitely yes.

By the time they’re all done reading the article, Scorpius’ gone white in the face unable to utter a word. When his hands start shaking with the piece of newspaper still in his hands, Albus places a placating hand on his friend’s shoulder, but it does little to assuage him.

“I — I wasn’t thinking, I didn’t think —” he stammers at last.

“Score, that law Skeeter speaks about is to prevent wizards from cursing muggle objects so the muggles get harmed, it doesn’t refer to what you do,” Rose explains.

“Yeah, like, if it were illegal to charm muggle objects for the benefit of wizards, how do you explain the Knight Bus?” Louis points out.

“Or the radio,” Albus adds, but Scorpius is still shaking.

“I will ask my mom, though, she’s Deputy Head of the Department of Law Enforcement at the Ministry, she should know,” Rose says.

“Or at the very least she could stop you from getting in trouble. I mean, this Quince guy from the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office, aunt Hermione is like his boss, right?” Albus asks.

“It’s not just that,” Scorpius says in a low voice, “my granddad didn’t know about this.”

“Oh,” Rose and Albus say at the same time, making Scorpius close his eyes.

“He’s going to flip,” he says, then he starts giggling to the dumbfounded stares of his friends, and the giggles escalate to a full on hysterical laughter.

“Oh, man, this is gonna be one fun Christmas dinner,” he says and keeps on laughing, though it’s clear it’s more of a coping mechanism than an actual laugh.

“Alright, that’s it, you’re coming to the Burrow with us for Christmas,” Rose declares, “you’ll have your dreadful Christmas dinner after you’ve spent some time with us.”

Albus pulls Scorpius towards him in a one-armed hug, and the blond boy at last manages to muster a faint smile. Rose hates watching her friend being constantly thrown under the shadow of his family, and is glad that at least he’s found some kind of safety net with them.

 

It doesn’t take much convincing for the Malfoys to let Scorpius stay with the Weasleys during the break, so the week before Christmas Draco takes his son Ottery St. Catchpole. They apparate at the Burrow’s front lawn, where Rose, Albus, James, Hugo and Lily are playing catch with a Quaffle.

“You’re here!” Rose exclaims eagerly when she sees father and son apparate and runs to greet them.

“I’m here,” Scorpius shrugs, and Rose can tell her friend is nervous to be there.

“Louis and his sisters are already here, but we’re still waiting for uncles Charlie, Percy and George to arrive,” Rose explains as she leads Scorpius and his father towards the house, hoping the knowledge that Albus, Louis and herself are there will ease Scorpius’ mind.

Just as they take the final steps to the house, the front door opens and Molly Weasley emerges from the inside with a huge grin on her face.

“Oh, hello, there,” she greets kindly, no sign of forced politeness in her smile or her tone, “we’re glad you could make it. It’s great to finally meet the famous Scorpius Malfoy, since you feature in all of my grandkids’ letters, specially Albus’.”

“Nice to meet you too, Mrs. Weasley,” Scorpius says, every bit the Malfoy gentleman he was taught to be.

“Oh, none of that, call me Molly,” Molly tells him.

“He’s never gonna do that,” someone says behind Scorpius, and the blond boy turns around to see James and Albus catching up with them, James wearing a teasing grin on his face, “he goes nuts every time we call Professor Thomas ‘Dean’.” Every teen present nods in agreement at James’ words.

“It’s only polite,” Scorpius defends, but Albus is already giggling so he gives up, “uh, whatever,” he finishes grumpily, his nerves seemingly completely dissolved, and Rose couldn’t feel any more grateful of James’ teasing ways of breaking the ice.

“Well, don’t just stand there, come in all of you,” Molly says as she ushers everyone inside.

“James and I were just looking for our brooms, now that Score’s here we can play four versus four, since Victoire doesn’t wanna play,” Albus explains as James rushes upstairs, “come on,” he adds yanking Scorpius by the arm, fully intending to take him upstairs with him, but Draco stops his son grabbing him by the shoulder.

“I’m leaving now, Scorpius, say goodbye before you run off,” he says, probably because he doesn’t want to bear the awkwardness of being left alone with Molly Weasley, Rose figures.

“Goodbye, dad,” Scorpius says giving his father a tight hug and letting him brush his hair affectionately before letting go and following Albus up the stairs.

“I am really happy Scorpius could come,” Molly says once Albus and Scorpius are gone, “my grandchildren always miss him when they come visit during the Summer.”

“And he’s happy to come too,” Draco replies, “I should get going now.”

“Of course, see you on the 24th,” Molly says as Draco gives a polite nod to both her and Rose and walks out the door.

“Well, that wasn’t too bad, was it?” Molly asks Rose.

“This whole awkwardness is silly,” is all Rose has to say.

 

Even though all the Weasley cousins are very fond of Scorpius, Rose knows her friend is nervous about meeting the rest of the family, afraid they’ll be too stuck in the past or see in him too much of what they remember of his father, but as Rose could’ve told him from the start, the boy had nothing to worry about. Her grandparents are nothing but friendly to him, especially Arthur, as he was dying to have someone to gush about muggles with, though Rose does note a certain degree of bewilderment in Scorpius at Arthur’s still limited knowledge of muggle life.

Scorpius tenses up again when the rest of the family arrives, but George and Percy seem to have heard a lot about him from their kids and Charlie immediately likes the young Malfoy’s particular brand of dry humour. Meanwhile, Bill and Fleur are happy to finally meet one of their son’s closest friends at Hogwarts.

Harry and Ginny, of course, have gotten used to Scorpius’ presence at their son’s side, and Rose is pretty sure her mom and Scorpius have interacted more than they let on. And her father, well, he was pretty surprised when he learned about Rose’s friendship with Scorpius two years ago, but he’s gotten over it by now, still looking frankly amused whenever he notices how much the boy differs from Draco Malfoy.

It is during one morning when most of her cousins are playing Quidditch outside and the majority of the grown-ups are either asleep or running errands, that Rose finds a copy of _The Daily Prophet_ sitting on the kitchen table while her father sips on his morning coffee. The front page is once again devoted to the Ministry-related drama about the Department of Mysteries; the story, as usual, penned by Rita Skeeter.

“What is wrong with this woman?” Rose muses as she reads the sensationalist piece of speculation about the inner workings of the Ministry.

“She raises the sells, sadly,” Ron shrugs.

“Yeah, but sometimes I think she takes it out on uncle Harry and on Scorpius.”

“Skeeter tried to make Harry her little gold mine when she first met him, too bad Harry wasn’t exactly cooperative, so she still used him, but, you know, always putting him under a bad light. She also has a thing for demythifying people’s heroes, so,” Ron explains.

“And what about Scorpius? What has he ever done to her?”

“It’s easier to pick on someone you believe can’t defend himself. You know what people think of the Malfoys, that they’re one step away form turning dark or revealing they were just as bad as everyone thought all along. Once upon a time Lucius Malfoy would’ve cursed Skeeter’s entire family for even daring to ink his grandson’s name, but now, well, they have to be more careful.”

“They can’t publicly hex her like aunt Ginny did during the World Cup.”

“That’s right,” Ron laughs, “they can’t, though I believe they could find a way to make it look like an accident, they’re Malfoys, after all.”

“I think they’re trying to stay off the bad path, for Scorpius, his mom and dad at least. His grandfather on the other hand … I don’t think he cares for Scorpius much.”

“Has Scorpius told you anything?” Ron asks curiously.

“Only that his grandfather didn’t know about what he was doing with the muggle stuff, and now he’s afraid he’s gonna flip when they see him on Christmas Eve.”

“Yikes. Poor Scorpius,” Ron says with a shudder as Hermione walks inside the kitchen, making a beeline straight to the coffee pot.

“You’re talking about the article at _The Prophet_?” she asks.

“Yes. Will Scorpius get in trouble?” Rose asks her mother.

“Of course not. What he’s doing isn’t illegal, as he isn’t cursing muggle objects for muggles to stumble into and get hurt, but yeah, he’s making a lot of people nervous at the Department,” Hermione explains, “wizards are traditionally wary of muggle technology, even the Hogwarts Express and the Knight Bus were met with huge resistance back when they first came out. Some people at the Ministry definitely want to know what Scorpius is up to.”

“And, of course, knowing he’s a Malfoy, they assume the worst,” Rose sulks.

“The last name doesn’t help, I agree, but then again, he’s not doing anything wrong.”

“I wish there could be a way for him to tell his side of the story, in a way that is not filtered by The Prophet and that awful Skeeter,” Rose muses.

“Well, there’s always _The Quibbler_ ,” Ron points out.

“That would only make Scorpius look even more like a mad man, no offence to auntie Luna,” Rose says, the sudden spark of an idea igniting inside her head.

“You probably have a point there,” Ron concedes with a chuckle.

 

The morning before Christmas arrives, marking the day Scorpius is meant to leave the Burrow and return home. During the time they’ve known him, Scorpius’ always been happy to spend time with his parents, but this year he’s anxious and worried about going home, which is evident even to those who just met him, like Molly Weasley. Which is why she doesn’t let Draco Malfoy get away from her that easily when he arrives to pick up his son.

“Perfect timing!” she exclaims as she opens the door, “I realised I baked way too many Christmas biscuits for tomorrow's dinner and I was just wondering who could help me with that when you arrived,” she elaborates as she pulls Draco inside the house without giving him chance to protest.

“Scorpius must be almost done packing his trunk, he’ll be down any second,” Molly adds as she motions Draco to follow her to the kitchen, where she pours two cups of tea and hands one over to Malfoy, along with a plate with biscuits shaped as Christmas trees, snowmen and candy canes. Looking around, Draco can see Molly wasn’t kidding: the entire kitchen looks like the inside of a bakery, with trays filled with biscuits on every available surface.

“We hadn’t had the pleasure to meet Scorpius,” Molly says as she takes a seat at the kitchen table, beckoning Draco to do the same, “he is quite a wonderful boy, and so bright.”

“He truly is, he’s the pride of me and my wife,” Draco replies as he pulls out a chair.

“Which is why I feel like I must express my concern. There have been awful things written about him in the paper, and it seems to me Scorpius is frightened out of his mind about the prospect of going home today,” Molly says and Draco immediately closes off, his eyes going steely and cold.

“He’s not in any kind of trouble with my wife and me, if that’s what you’re hinting at,” he replies coldly.

“Oh, of course he’s not,” Moly rushes to say, “and I am glad, but that doesn’t change the fact that Scorpius looks like he’s going through a lot of stress at the moment.”

“He’s afraid of how his grandfather might behave at tomorrow's dinner. My father is not the biggest enthusiast of wizards mingling with anything muggle, but I don’t have to tell you that.”

“I suppose you don’t,” Molly agrees, “but you don’t seem to mind Scorpius’ interests.”

“My son is a very intelligent boy, what he chooses to do with that mind of his is his choice alone,” Draco states firmly, “no matter what any newspaper writes.”

“And that’s wonderful,” Molly smiles, “which is why I wanted to talk to you. I know our families have had their differences in the past, but Scorpius is a close friend to my grandchildren and I believe he’s found a safe space among them, so it just seems absurd to me that these old issues are keeping his father out of that space. What I’m trying to say is Scorpius is always welcome in this home, and so are you and your wife.”

Draco remains silent for a long moment, pondering Molly’s words. He knows it must be difficult for her, to see past all the bad blood between the Malfoys and Weasleys, specially considering the animosity between his father and her husband back in the day. And it’s also difficult for Draco, because he’s very aware he’s sipping tea with the woman who killed his aunt to protect her daughter. But he can also see where she’s coming from and he understands now what it’s like to think like a parent, to put one’s child first.

“I appreciate it a lot, Molly,” Draco says at last, “thank you.”

“Nothing to thank me for,” Molly replies just as heavy footsteps are heard from the stairs, along with the noise of a trunk pounding on the steps. “I think Scorpius is all packed up,” Molly adds.

Scorpius arrives at the kitchen, pulling a trunk behind him and followed by Rose, Albus and Louis, all four of them looking perplexed to find Draco and Molly having tea and biscuits together.

“All set, champ?” Draco asks.

“All set,” Scorpius confirms, trying to sound chipper, but his voice gives away some nervousness.

“Let’s go, then” Draco says.

“Take some biscuits with you for your mother, Scorpius” Molly says, handing both him and Draco large baskets stuffed with biscuits, “I really did bake a lot.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Weasley.”

 

The rest of the break flies by before Rose can even notice. The entire Weasley clan reunites for Christmas dinner, and after that everyone returns to their respective homes. Rose and Hugo go back to Godric’s Hollow with their parents and Harry and Ginny take their children to Muggle London to spend some time with Harry’s cousin and his kids. Scorpius gets in touch with them during those days, saying he’s alright even if there was some arguing between his grandfather, his parents and him during Christmas dinner.

Just as the break is about to end, the idea that began forming in Rose’s head has completely taken shape and so, after classes are over on the first day back, she marches up to Headmistress McGonagall’s office on the third floor.

“Miss Weasley-Granger, come in, it is so rare to have one of our current best students at my office,” McGonagall says in form of a greeting, “it’s usually the troublemakers that walk through that door. What can I help you with, dear?”

Rose takes a seat at the Headmistress’ indication and can’t help but agreeing with her, since it’s only the second time in her life she’s been at McGonagall’s office, the other time being when Scorpius got a death threat through a howler on Halloween night two years ago. This time though, she takes a second to properly take in the room she’s in as she gathers the words she wants to speak.

There are so many books in the impressingly tall bookcases that they make even Hogwarts library look bad, and there’s an open birdcage on a desk, which she knows used to belong to Albus Dumbledore’ phoenix, and Rose wonders if the mythical bird has ever made a comeback to the castle or if the cage is there for mere sentimental value. There are also portraits from former headmasters and headmistresses, most of them looking incredibly bored. McGonagall sits behind an enormous claw-footed desk filled to the brim with books and pieces of parchment, some of them Rose recognises as official Ministry stationary, which brings her back to the topic she wants to discuss.

“I want to start a school newspaper,” she says at last to a perplexed McGonagall.

“I beg your pardon?” she asks blinking her eyes in confusion.

“A school newspaper,” Rose repeats, “where students can write about news that are relevant to them and about every-day life at Hogwarts.”

“I see …” McGonagall murmurs, “is this about the articles that have been published on _The Daily Prophet_ lately?”

“It’s part of it, yes,” Rose concedes, “this woman keeps writing things about Hogwarts students pretending she knows anything about them, and it would be great if there was a way for students to tell their own side of the story. But other than that, I think Hogwarts could benefit from it.”

“The idea doesn’t sound bad,” McGonagall muses, twirling a piece of Ministry stationary in her hand, “but still … a newspaper run by Hogwarts students …”

“Most muggle schools have them,” Rose points out.

“Do they, now?” McGonagall asks, “very well, I’ll take some time to think about it and I’ll let you know what I decide.”

“Thank you so much, professor,” Rose says before standing up and heading to the door, not before noticing a quiet murmur rising among the portraits, who were apparently intrigued by the idea Rose just proposed.

 

Rose doesn’t see Albus and Scorpius at the Great Hall when she walks in for dinner, so she shrugs and heads to the Ravenclaw table, where her House’s Keeper, Liam Claverdon, is having an animated chat with Jackson Abercrombie, who chases for Gryffindor, discussing an apparently controversial match between Puddlemere United and the Montrose Magpies that took place over the holidays.

“Great, Rose, you tell us —” Jackson begins when Rose takes a seat next to them.

“Oh, no, you are not bringing me into this,” Rose says.

“Just tell us, do you think it’s legit that, if a Beater ‘accidentally’—”

“It wasn’t on purpose,” Liam interrupts.

“’Accidentally’ hits a Quaffle with his bat and sends it into the goalpost, that it is counted like a legitimate goal?” Jackson asks.

“It was a goal,” Liam says.

“It so wasn’t, Rose, please tell him it wasn’t.”

“I am so not getting in the middle of this,” Rose repeats just as Albus and Scorpius walk inside the Great Hall, Scorpius looking stricken. They make their way to her as soon as they spot her.

“What happened?” Rose asks.

“McGonagall just summoned Score to her office,” Albus explains, “she said she’s been getting letters from the Ministry of Magic insisting they know what Score is up to with his muggle stuff.”

“Oh, Merlin, I can’t with these close-minded people, it’s not like he’s building a weapon, he simply made a music player work at Hogwarts,” Rose complains.

“And a camcorder,” Jackson quips beside her, “which I have to admit was pretty cool. I was actually gonna ask Score if we could use it to record our upcoming match against Hufflepuff.”

“Well, apparently the Ministry doesn’t think it’s so cool,” Scorpius says, “they really want to know what I’m doing.”

“I bet this wouldn’t even be an issue if your last name wasn’t Malfoy,” Rose bristles.

“I don’t know, Rose, wizards are pretty wary about muggle stuff,” Albus says.

“But you gotta admit, Score’s probably the first Malfoy ever to take an interest in anything muggle, that’s gotta be disconcerting to anyone who was around during the war, right?” Jackson points out.

“I guess,” Scorpius concedes.

“I was going to tell you earlier, but I couldn’t find you,” Rose says, “I went to talk to McGonagall about starting a school newspaper.”

“A school newspaper?” Albus asks.

“To, like, tell this side of the story?” Jackson asks and Rose nods, “I think it would be a great way to counter all the rubbish Skeeter writes.”

“What did she say?” Scorpius asks.

“That she would think about it,” Rose says, “but you know what? Her desk was full of Ministry stationary, I bet they were all those letters she got about Score, and I’m pretty sure a school newspaper would help get some of the pressure off her back.”

“You are right about that,” a voice says behind her and Rose startles when she finds Headmistress McGonagall standing right behind her.

“I’ve been thinking about your proposal, and I think Hogwarts could really benefit from having its own press,” she says, “so I am going to agree, but, since it was your idea and because you’re one of Hogwarts most accomplished students, I am leaving you in charge of it. I trust you will do a sensible job, yes?”

Rose positively beams at McGonagall’s words.

 

The first official meeting for Hogwarts’ yet unnamed newspaper project takes place exactly one week later, after Rose’s made sure to post enough fliers to inform people about it. She looks around the empty classroom McGonagall provided them and waits for other students to show up.

“Nervous?” a voice asks her and Rose finds Jackson Abercrombie standing by the doorframe.

“Just a little,” Rose admits, “are you joining?”

“Can’t, it clashes with Quidditch practice, but I came to wish you luck,” Jackson says, “and I also brought you these,” he adds, handling a small plate with a piece of pumpkin pie and a fork, “for the nerves.”

“Thank you, Jackson,” Rose says.

“It’s nothing. Well, gotta run. See you around, Rose,” Jackson says before heading out the door.

In the end, eight people show up, some of them muggle-raised and being more familiar with the idea of a school newspaper. There’s also Louis and the Scamander twins, who of course have some notion of the editorial world, being the grandsons of the editor of _The Quibbler_.

“Welcome everyone to the first work meeting of Hogwarts’ very first newspaper,” Rose greets them.

“We should probably get a name for that,” says a girl with dark pixie-cut hair that Rose immediately recognises as Emma Murray, the first-year who correctly guessed the answer to the Ravenclaw common room the first night of the year.

“We probably should,” Rose agrees, “any ideas?”

“How about _Hogwarts Daily_?” a dark-skinned boy in a Hufflepuff tie suggests.

“Sounds boring,” says a lean, brown-haired boy, who Rose knows as Kevin Turpin, one of the school’s Quidditch commentators.

“So I guess that means _The Hogwarts Gazette_ is out,” Rose says.

“Many muggle publications are called ‘the Eagle’, why not _Hogwarts’ Eagle_?” Emma Murray says.

“You can’t name it ‘the Eagle’,” says a round-faced dark-haired boy named Stephen Glossop, another Quidditch commentator, “that’s Ravenclaw’s emblem, and it’s not Ravenclaw’s newspaper, is it?”

“Well there’s no animal that represents all four Houses, now, is there?” Kevin Turpin counters.

“A dragon!” one of the Scamander twins says, Rose is pretty sure it’s Lysander. “It’s in the school’s motto, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, _Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus_ , never tickle a sleeping dragon,” Louis agrees.

“A dragon sounds cool, but _Hogwarts’ Dragon_ doesn’t sound right for a newspaper,” Emma says.

“We can always make a play on that,” Rose points out, “like, what does a dragon do?”

“In the case of our motto, sleep,” Stephen Glossop snorts.

“The motto means you shouldn’t mess around with a force you won’t be able to control, just because it doesn’t look aggressive,” Lysander explains, “I guess it’s a metaphor for educated wizards or something.”

“Alright, but when they are awake, what do they do?” his brother Lorcan asks.

“Set things on fire?” Emma suggests, “is that what we’re going for with our newspaper?”

“Dragons can also protect something, like the ones in Gringotts,” Louis points out, “they can be like observing or guarding something.”

“ _The Sleeping Dragon Observer_ ,” says a short, mousy-haired kid holding an old-fashioned camera who hadn’t spoken before. Everyone lets his words sink in, mouthing them silently as they do so.

“I like it,” Emma says with a smile, “it’s got a nice ring to it.”

“The Sleeping Dragon Observer,” Rose repeats, “yeah, it sounds great.”

“Cool,” Emma says, “now, does any of us actually have any clue of how to make a newspaper?”

“Our grandfather said he could give us one of the printing presses he doesn’t use anymore for printing _The Quibbler_ ,” Lorcan says.

“Your grandfather prints _The Quibbler_?” Kevin Turpin asks.

“Yeah,” Lorcan replies with a proud smile.

“My dad gave me this camera that used to be my uncle’s,” the mousy-haired boy says, “he says he also has the correct potions to have them developed.”

“We could get a camera too from granddad, I guess,” Lysander says, “and Lorcan’s good with pictures, so that means we already have two photographers.”

“I can be in charge of the Quidditch section,” Kevin says.

“Hey, I wanted that!” Stephen complains.

“You can both handle the Quidditch section,” Rose placates.

“I think we should make it a weekly publication, since we probably won’t have time for a daily edition with all the class work,” Emma suggests.

“Wait ‘till you’re studying for your O.W.L.s,” the boy from Hufflepuff snorts.

“Or in N.E.W.T. classes,” Stephen adds with Kevin nodding beside him.

“Alright, so a weekly publication. We should all present ideas for columns and sections so we can figure out a printing schedule,” Rose says.

By the end of the meeting it is decided that Rose will be in charge of writing the weekly editorial as well as the features, while Emma will be in charge of general news. Kevin and Stephen take the sports section, and they are told to also consider the school’s Gobstones Club and the Duelling Club, so it doesn’t centre exclusively on Quidditch. The dark-skinned boy from Hufflepuff, who Rose learns is named Duncan Turner, will be in charge of muggle news that would interest any muggle-borns that are now away from their families, while Louis will take advantage of a couple of pen-pals he’s made from other magic schools to write an international news section. Finally, Lysander, who takes after his mom, will be in charge of a section called Creature of the Week.

Meanwhile, the boy with the old-fashioned camera, a Gryffindor named Oliver Creevey, will be a photographer along with Lorcan. The Scamander twins will have a printing press delivered from their grandfather and everyone else will try to have an early draft of their assignments by the end of the week. If everything goes right, the could have their first edition out the following Monday.

“How did it go?” Jackson Abercrombie asks Rose when he drops by once the meeting is over, completely drenched in sweat from Quidditch practice. Everyone left but Rose chose to remain in the classroom working on the first draft of her editorial: “Why is it important to have a school newspaper.”

“Awesome,” Rose answers with a broad smile, “we have the sections outlined, we’re getting a printing press from the editor of _The Quibbler_ and two of the boys already know how to use a camera, so it should be alright.”

“Sounds great,” Jackson agrees.

 

Rose sits with Scorpius inside the Room of Requirement, so she can interview him about his experiments with muggle technology for the featured article for the first edition of _The Sleeping Dragon Observer_. The Room promptly provides them with a comfortable couch to sit on as well as with a self-dictating quill for Rose.

“A Quick-Quotes Quill?” Scorpius asks sceptically with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh, don’t be silly, this one _actually_ writes what you say, not an overly exaggerated version of it,” Rose explains, “now, let’s talk about wha you do with muggle technology.”

The following Saturday Rose presents McGonagall with the final versions of everyone’s work, which includes a profile of the legendary Hufflepuff beaters and a lengthy article about dragon care, featuring interviews with Hagrid and Charlie Weasley.

“These are great,” McGonagall assesses with an approving nod, “and so are these pictures. Do something like this every week and I think this could really work.”

“Yes!” Rose exclaims triumphantly, “that means I can print?”

“That means you can,” McGonagall agrees, “now, about distribution, we are sending a copy to every parent this first week, a long with a subscription form. Of course, we can’t charge more than _The Daily Prophet_ does, which is one Knut, but as there’s enough of Hogwarts budget to fund this, specially since the school is only providing the parchment and ink, that should not be a problem.”

 

On Monday the first edition of _The Sleeping Dragon Observer_ is placed in a dispenser by the entrance of the Great Hall and delivered by owl to every parent of every student in school. During breakfast and lunch, Rose can see many kids holding a copy of it, avidly commenting on it. The following day during their staff meeting, Rose shows everyone an impressive amount of subscription forms, prompting a loud round of applause from their newly formed crew. She also receives an owl from her mom.

_Dear Rose,_

_Your father and I were thrilled to receive the first edition of Hogwarts’ newspaper. I have to say, I wasn’t fully on board with the name you guys picked, but the logo Lysander designed truly sold the concept to me. As for the writing, it’s all really good. I particularly enjoyed your editorial about the need of a school newspaper, you’re right that students need to have a way to tell their side of things. I really wish we had something like that back when I was at Hogwarts, especially during the Triwizard Tournament. I also had a laugh when I read that bit where I’m pretty sure you’re talking about Skeeter._

_As for your interview with Scorpius, I showed it to the Head of Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office and the Head of Improper Use of Magic Office, as well as to Minister Kingsley. They all found it very interesting and had most of their worries appeased by it. Still, I think you should talk to Scorpius about presenting some of the work he does at the school fair later this year, and I’ll talk to Minister Kingsley about dropping by to see it. And of course the newspaper should have a stand too, I’d love to see that._

_Your father enjoyed a lot Lysander’s piece on dragons, and your aunt Ginny said she wanted to meet those beaters from Hufflepuff, maybe have something written about them on_ The Prophet _or getting them in contact with some scouts._

_The pictures are all great and all in all, I can tell there’s a lot of care behind this project, so I send my congratulations to both you and the entire staff, you did a splendid job._

_I’m really looking forward to the next issue. Your father and I are very proud of you._

_Love,  
Mom_

Rose finds writing feature articles fascinating, since she must find an interesting story to tell every week, that isn’t necessarily breaking news, as that’s Emma’s job. That makes her learn the story of Griselda Blishwick, the school’s caretaker and a squib, or the tale behind The Shrieking Shack, and she even gets invited to the deathday party of one of the school’s ghosts.

Stephen Glossop and Kevin Turpin turn out to be pretty good not only as Quidditch commentators, but as sports writers as well. Stephen covers Slytherin’s demolishing victory against Ravenclaw (Rose sat with her own House this time and was disheartened to see Slytherin beat them 290 to 60) and Kevin reports on Hufflepuff’s narrow win over Gryffindor (180 to 170).

The newspaper adds a whole new layer of work for everyone involved, Rose finds out once classes pick up speed again. Flitwick begins teaching the third-years Cheering Charms and Macmillan is having them turn bright-coloured macaws into steel adjustable spanners. Still, Rose spends a fair amount of time inside the empty classroom that has become the paper’s headquarters, polishing her next article.

It is in such a state that Professor Binns finds Rose one afternoon. The room is quiet except for the sound of the printing press mechanically spitting copies of the latest issue, a soothing, rhythmic sound that Rouse has found helps her focus on her writing.

“Oh, there it is,” Binns says, “I’ve been hearing this annoying noise for the past few weeks. It’s irritating and distracts me from my lecture, and now I know what it is. It’s that dreadful contraption. Turn it off.”

Rose looks up from her parchment utterly bewildered. Professor Cuthbert Binns is the only ghost within the teaching staff, and his class is undisputedly the worst at Hogwarts, mainly because of his complete detachment from his students. He could be standing before an empty classroom and he would go on and on about his class. Which is why Rose is thrown for a loop at Binns words, he rarely addresses a specific student directly.

“But this is our printing press,” Rose defends, “it’s printing this week’s newspaper.”

“This week’s what?” Binns asks confused.

“Newspaper. Hogwarts’ student-run newspaper. It’s been out for a few weeks now,” Rose elaborates.

“And why would Hogwarts need to have such a thing? That’s what subscriptions are for, you can get your newspaper delivered.”

“But this one is run by students. We write about news that happen at Hogwarts and things relevant to teachers and students alike,” Rose explains.

“What nonsense!” Binns exclaims, “how are these news any different from the ones you could get from _The Prophet_?”

“Well, for starters, they’re not written by sensationalist fablers posing as journalists like Rita Skeeter.”

“Yellow journalists have existed since the dawn of journalism itself, there’s little you can do to fight them. Get rid of one, you’ll always find another one willing to pick up the mantle,” Binns sighs.

“Doesn’t mean you don’t have to try,” Rose replies.

“It is pointless,” Binns insists, “and if I was alive, it would be giving me a headache, so I’m gonna ask you again to turn that incessant machine off.” It’s not the words, but the tone Binns uses, as if he’s being disturbed by a persistent fly, what makes Rose lose her composure.

“THERE WAS A WAR!!” she shrieks violently, “people died here! In this very castle, within this very walls. And not twenty years later, ignorant people who lived that war are trying to ignite old hatreds again. Did you know students were getting death threats in howlers? Did you? Do you not care about all that? Were you not there during the battle that took place here? Or are the wars of the living meaningless to a ghost?”

By the time her outburst is over, Rose is panting like she ran a marathon, but Binns merely blinks at her, annoyed.

“What an insolent young girl!” he exclaims at last.

“What an indifferent old ghost,” Rose counters, “and the one in charge of teaching History, of all things.”

“I should take points away from your House.”

“You probably should, go ahead. If you even know what House I’m in, that is,” Rose challenges, this seems to give the ghost pause. They both stare at each other in defiant silence, the noise from the printing press the only sound in the room. Until the press is done and the final copy of the paper comes out of it.

“That’s what I thought,” is all Rose says before turning around busying herself with gathering all the newspapers.

“The incessant machine is done,” she adds coldly as she walks past Binns and towards the door, “it shouldn’t bother you any longer.”

 

Rose is certain there will be consequences for her outburst towards Professor Binns when she walks into History of Magic the following day. Much to her amazement, even an old ghost is capable of surprising her.

“Last week we were reading about the first Goblin Rebellions recorded in history. Can somebody tell me what they were about?” Professor Binns asks, and at first none of the students answer, as not once had the ghost ever addressed a question to the class, his lecture mostly consisting in a monologue and an assignment at the end.

“Anyone?” Binns insist, and that seems to pull the class out of their slumber.

“Because goblins’ ideas of property are not the same as wizards’?” Sebastian Queensbury ventures with a half-raised hand.

“That is one of the reasons, yes, very good, Mr …”

“Queensbury,” Sebastian supplies.

“Very good, Mr. Queensbury, five points for Ravenclaw,” Binns says.

A murmur spreads around the class. In the two and a half years they’ve known him, Professor Binns had never asked for a student’s name, much less awarded House points.

“Who can tell me the main difference between wizards and goblins’ ideas of property?” Binns continues, to which two kids from Ravenclaw and one from Gryffindor raise their hands, Rose looks around her impressed.

“Yes, Mrs …?” Binns says pointing at a girl with bushy brown hair.

“Gifford,” the girl says, “Goblins believe it’s the maker of an object its true owner, while wizards believe it’s the one who purchases it.”

“That is correct, Mrs. Gifford, five points for Gryffindor,” Binns says, “now, do you believe that is correct? That an object truly belongs to its maker rather than its buyer?”

“Well, I don’t know, I think when you sell something you made you’re giving up any claim over it, if you think it’s that valuable, then sell it at a higher price,” Jackson reasons, “but, then again, I am a wizard, so I am bound to think that way.”

“But isn’t that what intellectual property is for?” Lorelai O’Deluga intervenes, “so you can claim recognition for what you make, even if you don’t physically own it anymore?”

“And that is precisely the subject of your next assignment,” Professor Binns says, “a twenty-inch essay in which you confront these two postures, and you will also write a reflection about how these different perspectives influence wizard and goblin relations today.”

“Do they? There are no Goblin Rebellions anymore,” Ferdinand Holmwood from Gryffindor points out.

“No, but there were in the past, and those who do not learn from their history are bound to repeat it,” Binns explains, “and that is the purpose of this class, after all,” he adds and turns his head to where Rose is sitting, an amused and still shocked expression on her face, and, much to her surprise, he winks at her.

 

“That was you, wasn’t it?” Jackson Abercrombie asks Rose as they walk the halls after the class is done.

“What are you talking about?” Rose asks.

“He _winked_ at you. I don’t know what you said to him, but it’s like we were being taught by an entirely different person.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Rose lies, making Jackson laugh.

“You are something else, you know that?” Jackson tells her, “see you around, Rose,” he adds before following the rest of the Gryffindors to their next class.

 

Even with the sudden turn in Binns’ lessons, which makes his class much more interesting, schoolwork is still drowning everybody, and Rose seriously considers skipping one of their Hogsmeade trips to stay in the Room of Requirement and catch up on her work, but Albus, Scorpius and Louis drag her with them.

“Come on, you might even find something cool to write about,” Louis urges her.

“Alright, alright,” Rose agrees as they head to the enchanted village.

They go to The Three Broomsticks, where they relax and Rose forgets for a while about homework and classes and the newspaper. As they walk to the door on the way out, Albus notices Louis keeps looking out the pub’s windows, up to the sky.

“Are you expecting post or something?” Albus asks him.

“Yeah, I’m writing a story on the wizarding villages you can visit on the train that leaves from Platform Seven and a Half at King’s Cross. We made the trip during the last holidays and mom’s sending me some of the pictures we took,” Louis explains as they approach the door, which opens to reveal a blonde witch with a heavy jaw and jewelled spectacles walking inside. The second she spots them, her mouth curves into a delighted smile that reveals three gold teeth.

“Oh, but if it is the journalist of the moment,” Rita Skeeter says cheerfully looking at Rose, “Rose Weasley!”

“Weasley-Granger,” Rose corrects.

“Of course,” Rita agrees sweetly. “So how’s newspaper life treating you, dear? I must say, I wasn’t really a fan of that piece about that squib you wrote, but I truly enjoy your editorials, particularly that one about journalistic work ethics. Lovely.”

“I’m glad you did,” Rose says with a fake smile plastered on her face, but Rita’s demeanour suddenly becomes sombre.

“You think I don’t realise who are you really addressing them to?” she asks, “because I do. You’re not as subtle as you think, dear,” she says pointing one of her crimson-painted two-inch nails at Rose’s face.

“I wasn’t trying to be,” Rose replies in all seriousness.

“Sweet child, do you want to go to war against me? You think a thirteen-year-old girl can win a quill war against a seasoned journalist like me?”

“I agree with you on ‘seasoned’,” Rose says coolly, “not quite on the ‘journalist’ bit,” she adds, making Albus, Scorpius and Louis gasp and Rita laugh.

“Ho ho ho! The girl’s got teeth,” Rita exclaims, “let’s hope they don’t bite more than they can chew, shall we?” she says before brushing past them and heading for the bar.

“You did not just provoke Rita Skeeter,” Albus says, not taking his eyes from the older witch.

“I’ve been provoking her with every editorial I write. I mean, I don’t explicitly say anything about her, I just write about what I believe ethics in journalism should be like. But, hey, I guess the hat fitted.”

“When your dad learns about this, he will really flip because you weren’t sorted in Gryffindor,” Albus adds, making everyone laugh.

 

The repercussions of Rose’s confrontation with Skeeter take two full weeks to arrive, just the day they’re all set to leave for Easter holidays. Rose had been half expecting to find an article talking dirt about school newspapers, but turns out Skeeter found a way to hit Rose where it really hurts.

 

 

 

Hermione Granger, power hungry like the wolf

by Rita Skeeter

Deputy Head of the Department of Law Enforcement, Hermione Granger, continues making waves within the Ministry of Magic, this time by presenting a bill at the Wizengamot that, if accepted, would allow werewolves to be employed anytime, anywhere, including places like the Ministry of Magic, Hogwarts or St Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.

You read that right. If the legislation Granger is pushing is passed, there will be nothing to prevent werewolves from teaching our kids or tending to our sick loved ones.

Mrs. Granger seems to be capitalising on the popularity of the late Remus Lupin, a werewolf who taught Defence Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts over two decades ago, to support what she’s calling the Werewolf Anti-Discrimination Act, which would force employers, schools, businesses and health institutions to forego any security measure a lycanthrope could find discriminatory.

Little is known of Remus Lupin’s life, except that he fathered a boy that is now the godson of The Boy Who Lived himself, Harry Potter, making it very easy to embellish his biography with tales of grandeur during both Wizarding Wars, which is exactly what Hermione Granger and Harry Potter have been doing all this time, given their close friendship with the now deceased lycanthrope.

What these tales often fail to include is the fact that the beloved professor was the very reason why the Shrieking Shack was built in Hogsmeade, so a teen-aged Remus Lupin could be let loose for the full moons during his Hogwarts years, or the fact that Lupin came in two occasions close to murder former Hogwarts Headmaster Severus Snape, when he wasn’t able to put himself in check during a full moon.

Even though the advances in potion-making have now given us the Wolfsbane Potion, which theoretically siphons the aggressiveness out of a transformed werewolf, the many ways the potion can fail to work or to be administered, as Remus Lupin’s example proves, still make werewolves a public security risk. Which of course, doesn’t concern the Deputy Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

No, since she stepped out of Hogwarts with shiny N.E.W.T.s under her belt, Hermione Granger has had but one goal in mind: climbing the social and political ladder in the wizarding world, an obsession no doubt fuelled by her muggle origins.

Feeling like a direct victim of the second Wizarding War and You Know Who’s dark regime, Hermione Granger has taken upon herself to dismantle every single Ministry policy that doesn’t agree with her ruthless hunger for political power.

During her short-lived stint at the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, she stubbornly campaigned for the rights of house-elves, but she wasn’t able to grant lycanthropes the same protection, and now hopes her new position at the Ministry will allow her to do just that.

Academically brilliant, but recalcitrant in attitude, Mrs. Granger probably knows she has little to no chance of successfully running for Minister for Magic, as it is her wish to succeed current Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt. Which is why it shouldn’t surprise us if her next step turns out to be granting all the magical creatures she’s campaigned for the right to vote, as it is probably the only way she could give some fight in an election.

Becoming the second-ever muggle-born Minister for Magic is probably a prize much to juicy to ignore for Mrs. Granger, and even if the first-ever muggle born Minister, Nobby Leach, was most likely murdered while being in post (all fingers point to Abraxas Malfoy, though it was never proved), that doesn’t seem to deter this careerist.

Under this light, the inexplicable and downright improbable friendship between Granger’s daughter Rose Weasley, her nephew Albus Potter and Abraxas Malfoy’s great-grandson Scorpius Hyperion suddenly makes sense. Let’s not forget her daughter is now in charge of Hogwarts’ newly founded newspaper, which features romanticised tales of the origin of the Shrieking Shack and biographies of squibs. It comes as no surprise to anyone who knows her that Hermione Granger would use her daughter to push her agenda.

Meanwhile, what is the Ministry doing? Oswald Ollerton, the actual Head of the Department of Law Enforcement (though Mrs. Granger often forgets) seems happy to let his subordinate run rampant, as he seems to be with having Hogwarts dropout Harry Potter run the Auror Office. Meanwhile, Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt seems unbothered by the mess occurring at every Department in the Ministry

And what about us, the common citizens of Wizarding Britain? Must we simply accept the fact that we’ll be now exposed to werewolves, as long as it suits the agenda of Ministry officials like Hermione Granger?

Rose can barely breathe when she’s done reading. Surely, she was expecting some kind of blowback from Skeeter after she ran into her at The Three Broomsticks, but she never thought it could come as an attack to her mom. Articles like this could destroy a person’s career, and Skeeter smartly poked the Ministry of Magic to elicit some kind of response from him.

Bristling, Rose puts the paper down and looks around to see if anyone is aware of the fact that she’s hyperventilating. Her fellow Ravenclaws haven’t noticed how livid she looks, being completely absorbed in their own conversations and eating their breakfast, meanwhile, Rose’s hands are still shaking. There is no-one she knows at the Slytherin table but over at Gryffindor, Albus is with James just laughing and goofing around. Rose takes the paper with her and makes her way over to the red and gold table.

“Alright, I want in,” Rose tells them when she arrives, making both Potters stop mid-laugh and look at her with matching puzzled looks.

“You want in … in what?” James asks confused.

“What you two have been saying since I got sorted in Ravenclaw and Al in Slytherin. Don’t you always say Hogwarts will never know what hit it if we join forces?” Rose explains, making both brothers gape like confused fishes.

“Let me get this straight,” James begins cautiously, “you want us to join forces …”

“To pull a prank,” Albus finishes for him.

“That’s right. A big one, one that could benefit from having a Weasley in every House,” Rose declares.

“We’re bringing Hugo in for this?” Albus asks.

“We’re bringing everyone in,” Rose replies.

“Who exactly pissed you off so much?” James asks bewildered, prompting Rose to shove her copy of _The Daily Prophet_ at him. James starts to read, a frown quickly forming on his face.

“Oh,” he says, “bloody hell!”, he exclaims as he reaches the bottom of the page and passes the newspaper to his brother.

“Bloody hag,” Albus mutters in disgust as he reads, “damn right we’re in.”

 

Rose has Albus and James, along with Scorpius, Louis and Hugo and Lily, gather in the Room of Requirement after classes are done for the day. None of them is pleased with Rita’s article and they are all happy to help. It doesn’t take them long to come up with a plan, and before everyone leaves, they all have some kind of assignment to get done over the break.

“It’s kind of ambitious, but I think we can pull it off,” Rose tells them.

“Spoken like a true Slytherin,” Albus says beaming, “I’m glad we’re rubbing off on you.” That earns him a slap in the arm from Rose.

At dinner, Jackson Abercrombie finds Rose just before se sits at the Ravenclaw table.

“Hey there, Rose,” he greets nervously, and Rose can see he’s holding a piece of parchment in his hands.

“Hey, Jackson,” she greets back, “how’s it going?”

“Great, great,” says Jackson, fidgeting and toying with the parchment he’s holding, before clearing his throat and squaring his shoulders, “I just wanted to give you this,” he says at last, handing the parchment to Rose, and rapidly taking his leave.

Rose opens the folded parchment warily. In all the time she’s known him, she’d never seen Jackson Abercrombie look nervous until now. There are a few lines scribbled on the parchment and when she’s done reading she looks up in surprise, but Jackson is nowhere to be found.

 

Once Easter holidays begin Rose spends a full day of her vacation at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes hanging out with her dad and her uncle George. They insist she doesn’t have to help around the shop to go visit them, especially given her birthday is the following day, but she still gives them a hand with inventory and manning the counter. When it’s time for lunch she takes a break to head over to Flourish and Blotts and purchase a specific potions book she’s got her sight on.

As she leaves the bookstore, Rose sees a crowd of wizards exiting the main office of _The Daily Prophet_ , and figures it must be time for lunch for most of the staff as well. An extravagantly set of blonde curls catches her eye and Rose sees Rita Skeeter chatting animatedly with some other woman, her trademark fake smile plastered on her face. Skeeter must sense eyes on her because looks across the street to find Rose staring at her. Rose feels her blood run cold and has to remind herself to keep her cool, but Rita merely throws her a condescending smile and turns around to resume her conversation.

“Hey!” somebody whispers next to her, “hey!”

Rose turns to her side to find Jackson Abercrombie leaning on the side of a shop, but decides to ignore him.

“Rose!” Jackson whispers a little louder, but Rose crosses the street instead, ignoring the boy.

“Rose, come on, come back,” Jackson calls after her but Rose keeps walking.

“I’ve got nothing to say to you,” Rose says rather loudly.

“But, Rose —”

“I said no!” Rose exclaims, loud enough that she startles some of the people around them.

“Look,” Jackson says as he pulls Rose to an opening between the buildings and Rose barely registers they’re standing on the path that leads to Knockturn Alley.

“That thing you wrote to me, I don’t know what you think you’re —” Rose begins but Jackson cuts her off.

“There’s just something I need to show you,” he says, “but not here, it’s too risky, better at Hogwarts.”

“Is it something illegal?” Rose asks with a raised eyebrow, and is met by Jackson’s silence, “I figured,” she huffs.

“Just, wait ‘till I show you, okay? I know it might be unorthodox —”

“Unorthodox being a euphemism for illegal,” Rose interrupts.

“But it will be worth it, I promise,” Jackson says, “the weekend after classes pick up, when everyone’s busy at the school fair —”

“I have a stand at the school fair,” Rose protests, “newspaper, remember?”

“Just disappear for a while and meet me at the Charms classroom at the end of the hall on the second floor. You won’t regret it I promise,” Jackson pleads.

“I’ll think about it,” Rose says.

“Great!” Jackson beams, “now, I’ve gotta run. See you back at school, Rose!” he shouts as he turns around and flees, leaving Rose utterly confused in the middle of the street that leads to Knockturn Alley.

 

The break ends with a party at the Burrow to celebrate both Rose and Albus’ birthdays, as they were born merely days apart, and even Scorpius shows up, much more at ease with being among the older Weasleys. The day they return to Hogwarts, Rose holds a meeting at the Room of Requirement to review the advances in their plan against Rita Skeeter.

“Did everyone get their assignments done?” she asks.

“I got mine,” Hugo says, holding a large rounded bottle and showing it off to everyone in the room.

“So did I,” Louis says, toying with a small satchel in his hand.

“You really stole something from Gringotts?” James asks incredulous.

“The warning engraved on the doors clearly state you shouldn’t go in looking to steal treasures. Well, I didn’t exactly take a treasure, did I?” Louis retorts.

“You’re such a Slytherin,” James chuckles, “how did you even get in?”

“Told my dad I wanted to see where he works,” Louis shrugs innocently, making James chuckle amusedly again.

“How about you, Rose, did you do your bit? Yours was the tricky one,” Albus asks.

“I think it played out alright,” Rose replies, “and I also got this,” she adds, showing them a large potions book she bought at Flourish and Blotts.

“There recipe is in here?” Scorpius asks.

“Yes, and I already got the ingredients we were missing,” Lily intervenes as she shows them a small sack.

“Albus and I are working on the potion and, Scorpius, this is for you,” Rose says as she hands the blond boy a second book, “the spell you’re looking for is in there.”

“Sweet!” Scorpius exclaims.

“Let’s get to work, then,” Rose says, “we’ve got a bug to catch.”

That night after dinner, Rose and James search the castle looking for Peeves. They go through several doors, including a broom closet where they find Louis snogging with a fourth-year Gryffindor, until they finally find the poltergeist swinging himself on a chandelier inside an empty classroom.

“But if it isn’t the goody-goody and the troublemaker!” Peeves exclaims as a greeting, not stopping for a second his swings on the chandelier.

“We wanted to talk to you,” Rose says.

“Oh, really?” Peeves asks feigning disinterest, “what about?”

“We wanted to ask you if you wanted to join us in a prank,” James says, effectively making Peeves stop and get off the chandelier to float towards them, grinning like a lunatic.

“Oh, dear,” he says, “I thought you’d never ask.”

 

Minerva McGonagall agrees with both having Scorpius set up a stand at the school fair for him to show off the work he’s being doing with muggle objects and inviting the Minister for Magic to attend the fair, so he can see for himself what he’s up to. Meanwhile, Rose has more work than ever as she must not only prepare the next issue of _The Sleeping Dragon Observer_ in addition to studying for her finals, but also prepare the newspaper stand for the fair.

The day of the fair arrives and not only Minister Shacklebolt shows up, but he’s accompanied by the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Oswald Ollerton, the Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office, Quentin Quince, and the Head of the Improper Use of Magic Office, Broderick Radford, along Rose’s mom and her uncle Harry.

Hermione Granger’s first stop, of course, is her daughter’s stand, where she introduces her staff and talks about the work they do. They also have leaflets at the ready to invite other students to join the newspaper.

Then she joins the rest of the Ministry delegation to visit Scorpius’ stand, where he explains in great detail what he did to modify his muggle music player and his camcorder, as well as the practical uses wizards could have for muggle technology. Albus stands by his side the whole time, not really contributing to his friend’s explanation, but mostly offering moral support.

“This actually looks like it could be very useful,” Minister Shacklebolt says rather impressed as he hold’s Scorpius’ camcorder, “but we still must analyse the risk of a recording breaking the Statute of Secrecy,” he adds.

“No more than our moving photographs,” Albus intervenes, “they could expose the entire wizarding world if they fell into the wrong hands. But videos can be explained away as especial effects. Muggles do all kinds of tricks to make things look like magic on video all the time.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Shacklebolt muses, not being completely ignorant of the ways of the muggles as he did a lot of undercover work during his Auror days.

“Very well,” he says at last, “we will review all this at the Ministry, but so far, I don’t see why you should stop working on this. You are a very talented young man, Mr. Malfoy, and those brains of yours could take you places.”

Scorpius blushes fiercely at the compliment, and Albus gives him a proud shoulder-bump with a huge smile.

“Thank you, Minister,” Scorpius says.

 

With the Minister and her mom occupied with Scorpius, Rose asks Emma to fill in for her so she can make a run to the second floor to meet with Jackson Abercrombie, but when she arrives at the classroom at the end of the hall there’s no-one there. Looking around at the empty room, she takes out a small pebble from her pocket, and watches it as it suddenly starts glowing with a bright yellow light. Rose quickly clasps her fist and shoves the pebble back inside her pocket with a satisfied grin.

“Rose!” someone exclaims behind her and she turns to see an out-of-breath Jackson Abercrombie as he enters the room, “you came!”

“I came,” Rose replies coolly, “what is it you wanted to show me?”

Jackson approaches Rose and presents her with a bottle filled with a nasty-looking green liquid.

“This,” he says, before smashing the bottle on the ground, making a foul-smelling green cloud of smoke emerge from it. Rose and Jackson cover their nose and mouth as they cough, but Rose never takes her eyes off the door.

“There!” she shrieks as she points at the door, where a beetle with very particular markings tries to make its escape.

“We’ve got her,” Jackson says with a triumphant smirk.

At the hall outside the classroom, Albus and James are handing Peeves bottles of the same liquid Jackson had, except the bottles are equipped with an atomiser nozzle like they’re perfume.

“Here you go, Peeves, go nuts,” James says and the poltergeist eagerly takes off dousing everything on his path with the foul-smelling concoction the Potter boys armed him with, all while laughing like a maniac.

Albus and James rush back to the Great Hall, with Rose and Jackson catching up behind them, all of them covering their mouths to avoid smelling the pestilence around them.

“Are you sure you didn’t overdo it a little, Rose?” James asks.

“I had to make sure the bug repellent worked on Animagus, not just regular bugs,” Rose explains.

“Come on, if Peeves is herding Skeeter to the Great Hall, we have to beat her there,” Jackson urges them as they quicken their step.

The Great Hall is exactly as Rose left it. Her mom is catching up with Professor Babbling in one of the stands and her uncle Harry is doing everything in his power to avoid Professor Trelawney and Firenze. The Minister and his staff are looking around reminiscing about their Hogwarts days and commenting on how much it’s changed.

Suddenly the Great Hall doors burst open with a loud bang and Rose can see a small beetle zooming past the threshold.

At Rose’s sign, Scorpius lifts his wand and points at a bucket filled with water that had been discretely placed next to his stand. Following Scorpius’ command, the water inside shoots up like a geyser and lands directly on the beetle, just as the bug is flying past the Minister.

The water hitting the bug has an immediate effect: the beetle turns into a human right before the Minister’s eyes, and a second later Rita Skeeter is kneeling on the Great Hall floor, drenched in water and with all eyes in the room on her.

“What is this?” Shacklebolt asks as Skeeter scrambles to get on her feet, shivering both because of her soaked state and the fear of having been exposed in front of the Minister. The entire Great Hall has fallen silent around them.

“It seems to me, Minister Shacklebolt, that this reporter had turned herself into a bug,” Minerva McGonagall explains behind him, looking surprised but not at all displeased.

“N — No, I —” Rita stutters but is cut off by Shacklebolt.

“I don’t believe your name appears in the Animagus Registry, Mrs. Skeeter, does it?” he asks.

“That’s a very serious infraction,” Hermione intervenes before Rita can answer, “an unregistered Animagus, imagine all the felonies she could commit without anyone knowing.”

“It should be noted that Mrs. Skeeter has had her access to Hogwarts grounds banned since before the start of the Second Wizarding War,” McGonagall notes, “you have no business here, Mrs. Skeeter.”

Skeeter looks around disoriented for a moment, but her eyes finally land on Rose and narrow as she adjusts her glasses and launches herself towards the girl.

“You!” she shrieks with a hoarse voice and raises her wand.

Whatever spell she casted is drowned by Rose screaming “ _Protego_!” and conjuring a shield that makes Skeeter’s attack bounce on it. Harry and Shacklebolt are on Rita in an instant, holding her back.

“Being an unregistered Animagus may not warrant a sentence in Azkaban anymore, but you just tried to attack a minor,” Shacklebolt says, “so I’m afraid I’m going to have to arrest you. Mr. Potter, if you please.”

Harry wastes no time restraining Skeeter, who is struggles to get free of his hold and keeps trying to reach Rose.

“I am so sorry we have to do this in the middle of a school event,” Shacklebolt says to McGonagall once he’s certain he can let go of her and she won’t escape Harry’s grasp, “it is quite unfortunate.”

“There’s no need to apologise, Minister, you must do your job,” McGonagall replies, not looking sorry in the least.

“You are going to regret this, girl,” Rita threatens Rose, who calmly approaches the reporter and mutters low enough that only Skeeter and Harry can hear.

“You were right: a thirteen-year-old girl couldn’t win a war against you … but a fourteen-year-old could.”

At that moment a maniac laughter is heard and everyone turns in time to see Peeves rushing past the Great Hall doors holding what looks like an enormous water balloon.

Screaming incoherent noises, Peeves hurls the balloon right at Skeeter’s face, with explodes drenching her in yet another foul-smelling liquid, this one a lot more transparent.

“That looks like vinegar from the Hufflepuff common room,” McGonagall comments casually as Rita scrunches her nose at the smell, “it should be a measure of how unwelcome a person is at Hogwarts that even the school poltergeist wants her out,” she says with utter contempt.

As Harry and the rest of the Ministry staff escort Skeeter out of the castle, Hermione approaches her daughter, who’s standing right in the middle of Albus, James, Lily, Hugo, Scorpius, Louis and Jackson; none of them succeeding at looking innocent or surprised.

“Alright, all of you, spill,” Hermione says, trying to sound scolding but coming off as amused instead.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” James says, wide-eyed.

“Oh, come on!” Hermione pleads, trying very hard not to let her delight show beyond her children and extended family, “you have to tell me how you came up with that. It was brilliant.”

“We are not admitting to anything. But if we’d done something, we probably would’ve looked up a recipe for a bug repellent,” Rose says faux-thoughtfully.

“And make it even stronger,” Lily quips.

“And given it to Peeves so he could herd Skeeter to where the Minister was,” James adds.

“How did you even know she would be here?” Hermione asks.

“We might have performed a pretty suspicious-looking conversation outside her workplace that made it sound like I would be involved in something illegal the day of the school fair,” Rose shrugs, turning to look at Jackson, who winks at her.

“And Score here, the Charms master he is, might have spelled a rock to turn it into a makeshift intruder detector,” Albus adds as Rose holds out the pebble that let her know Skeeter was in the room with her and Jackson.

“And the water?” Hermione asks, “I don’t think that was just plain water.”

“It might have been water from the Thief’s Downfall at Gringotts, which washes away all kinds of magical concealment” Louis replies, “since it’s not technically a treasure, there are no security measures against somebody taking some.”

“The vinegar from Hufflepuff was just a bonus,” Hugo adds, “icing on the cake.”

“But of course, that’s just speculation,” Rose rushes to say, “I mean, how we would’ve done it, if we had done it.”

“Of course,” Hermione says with a laugh. “Well, if you had, I would’ve said good work, but since you didn’t …”

“And we would love to take the credit, but alas,” Rose shrugs.

“You crazy kids,” Hermione chuckles, “Your uncle George would be proud, and Fred would’ve been too. Anyways, I have to go, before they leave me. I’ll see you when the school year is done.”

“Goodbye, mom,” Rose and Hugo say.

“Goodbye, Mrs. Granger,” the rest of them say as Hermione walks out of the Great Hall. Everyone else seems to have returned to their activities, none of them aware of how Skeeter was really exposed. Or maybe everyone knew, and they were just as glad to see her gone.

 

The last issue _The Sleeping Dragon Observer_ will print that school year is ready and all Rose has to do is wait for the copies to come out of the printing press. She can’t help getting a little emotional as she holds a copy, the front page mostly occupied by two large photographs: one of the Ravenclaws celebrating winning the House Cup at the Great Hall and another of the Slytherin Quidditch team holding the Quidditch House Cup surrounded by a sea of ecstatic green and silver-clad students.

It had been a stressful season for every house, as Slytherin beat Hufflepuff 260 to 70, taking the lead in the tournament by 14 points, making the final game between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor the turning point: if Ravenclaw or Gryffindor won by 150 points or more they would tie with Slytherin and the Cup winner would be decided by number of goals. If they won by less than 150 points, the Cup would belong to Slytherin. In the end, after a wild match of constant scoring on both sides, Gryffindor defeated Ravenclaw 300 to 160, making Slytherin the winner for the second year in a row.

A knock on the door pulls Rose back from reminiscing the last two matches of the season and she turns around to find Jackson Abercrombie standing at the threshold, a warm smile on his face.

“Last issue of the year?” he asks.

“Last issue of the year,” Rose confirms, “next won’t come out ‘till September, and we have to hold a staff meeting first, to see who’s returning, who isn’t and who’s joining for the first time.”

“I can’t wait,” Jackson says as he picks up one of the freshly printed newspapers. He flips through some of the pages until he lands on a story detailing Rita Skeeter’s arrest.

“I can’t believe we got her,” Jackson muses.

“Sometimes neither can I,” Rose admits, “she had a point, you know? We’re still just a bunch of kids.”

“And we still outsmarted her,” Jackson points out.

“Why did you want to help us?” Rose asks, making Jackson uncharacteristically blush all of a sudden. In all the time she’s known him, she’s never seen him blush.

“Well … I — two reasons,” he stammers, “the first is I was sick of her. I can’t stand bullies, you know? And the stuff she wrote, the stuff she’s been writing for years, is toxic.”

“Isn’t that the truth,” Rose agrees.

“My dad said she used to be that nasty during the War, that she divided a lot of people planting rumours and spreading lies. He says he used to be one of the ones who believed in what she wrote.”

“In his defence, one usually expects the things printed on a newspaper to be true. That’s kind of the reason you buy one in the first place,” Rose says.

“Well, he’s subscribed to yours now. He says he loves it,” Jackson tells her.

“Well, it’s not mine, it’s Hogwarts’,” Rose says, “but I’m flattered.”

“You should be.”

“So what’s the other reason?” Rose asks.

“Uh?”

“You said there were two reasons why you helped us. What’s the other reason?” And there’s Jackson’s blush again, this time even fiercer.

“I thought it was obvious,” he says after a moment of pondering.

“What is?”

“I fancy you, Rose,” Jackson says, clearly still nervous, but determined. “I really like you and, you know, I thought that … well, you know, yeah,” he babbles, blushing fiercely at his lack of coherence, making Rose laugh.

“Oh, my, you really are a Gryffindor, aren’t you?” she says and Jackson shrugs proudly, making Rose chuckle.

“I mean it, though, and I’d love to take you out on a date sometime,” Jackson continues.

“I’d like that,” Rose says and Jackson smiles at her like he’s a castaway lost at the sea and she’s the boat to firm land.

“Great!” he says, before giving into a sudden impulse and giving Rose a quick peck on the cheek, making the girl yelp and blush.

“See you around, Rose,” Jackson says with a smile still a mile wide before exiting the classroom, and Rose doesn’t think something could be able to wipe the grin off her face. Not that she really wants that.

 

The first thing Rose sees after the Hogwarts Express drops her and her friends at the platform nine and three-quarters is her father almost bursting with pride, next to her very amused mother.

“That’s my girl!” he says as he launches himself at Rose to trap her in a bear hug, “Weasley blood through and through.” Hermione shakes her head at her husband’s words, but doesn’t look reproachful.

"Interesting yardstick you're using," she jokes.

“I can’t believe you weren’t sorted in Gryffindor,” Ron goes on.

“Well, I don’t know,” Albus says next to them, “she was very cunning. I think she’d be more at home with us Slytherins.” Ron’s horrified face makes even Scorpius laugh.

“We must be rubbing off on you,” Scorpius says, joining for the first time in house-related teasing in front of any of the older Weasleys.

Also a first, Draco Malfoy approaching the group instead of waiting for his son to say goodbye to his friends and find his parents.

“Hey there, Malfoy,” Ron greets, still a tad awkward, but not at all hostile.

“Weasley, Granger,” Draco greets with a nod, “Ready to go champ?” he asks his son.

“Ready,” Scorpius confirms.

“Excuse me, Mr. Malfoy,” Albus says with a nervous politeness that gives away the fact that he’s about to ask Scorpius’ father for something he might not like.

“After a lot of begging on my part, I convinced my dad to take us to Japan for the holidays, to see the Summer Olympics.”

“I beg your pardon?” Malfoy asks, utterly bewildered.

“The Olympics,” Albus repeats, “they’re —”

“They’re these big muggle sport games, like the Quidditch World Cup but with many sports,” Scorpius explains for him.

“Muggle sports,” Draco repeats.

“Yeah. It’s been a while since we last went away on a long vacation, and dad agreed we’d go to Japan for the two weeks the Games last, and I was wondering if you guys wanted to come with us, you know, Score, Mrs. Malfoy and you, sir.”

Draco looks absolutely dumbfounded by Albus’ invitation, and tries very hard not to look at his son’s pleading eyes. Rose is pretty sure he’s about to decline, but after a few moments of silence he turns to Scorpius and asks, “do you want to go?”

“Yes!” Scorpius exclaims without missing a beat.

“I’ll tell you what, we’ll talk about it at home with your mom and see, how’s that?”

Scorpius looks mildly disappointed, but still mutters a hopeful okay.

“We should get going now,” Draco says, so Scorpius turns around to give Rose and Albus each a hug before following his father to the barrier.

“We should get going as well,” Rose says as she watches Albus, James and Lily have already found their parents and they’re all waiting for them to join them.

“Yeah, we should,” Ron agrees.

“You guys go on,” Hermione says, “Rose and I will catch up with you in a minute.”

Ron beckons Hugo to follow him, leaving Rose alone with her mom.

“Listen, Rose, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you since the school fair,” Hermione begins.

“Am I in trouble?” Rose asks.

“Oh, no, none of that,” Hermione laughs, “of course, you guys broke several of Hogwarts’ rules, but I can’t say I didn’t do that in my time, and I can’t say I object the cause either. I just wanted to say … I know you hear a lot of comparisons, with me. How we’re both top of our class, and intellectually oriented, and we even look alike physically. And I know you get tired of it.”

“I don’t —”

“And that’s okay. No kid should be expected to be just like their parents. I see a lot of myself in you: you don’t tolerate injustice, and you aren’t afraid to speak your mind. But you have your own way of handling things. How you dealt with Rita, well, I never would’ve thought to do it with a prank. That’s much more of your father’s side.”

“Don’t I know it,” Rose snorts.

“But there are things that are also just you, you know? The newspaper, your natural leadership; the things you can’t learn from a book, it took me years to learn them, and it took many a life-threatening situation for me to realise there are more important things than always having the right answer. You seem to have learned all that much earlier.”

“Only because you taught me, mom,” Rose says, and Hermione smiles gratefully.

“Still. It’s such a terrible burden that’s been placed on all of you. You, Albus, Scorpius, and our entire family really. Everyone expects you guys to be just like your parents. You were too little to remember this, but teachers were dreading Fred’s arrival at Hogwarts when he was eleven. And the prankster turned out to be …”

“James,” Rose says at the same time as her mother, making them both laugh.

“But I, for one, I’m happy to see some of myself and your father in you, but also to see things that are just you.”

“So you don’t think the Hat made a mistake?” Rose asks, uncertain. She’s never asked this question out loud before; very often, she didn’t even dare to think it, and sometimes she even felt glad Albus was sorted in Slytherin because it took a lot of pressure from her.

“You are very smart and very brave, but also very loyal and very ambitious. I think the Hat places you where it thinks you’ll thrive. It took it a while to decide whether I should be in Gryffindor or Ravenclaw, I think it saw bravery in me, but buried underneath a thousand insecurities, and it was in Gryffindor where I got rid of them. You were already so sure of yourself when you got to Hogwarts, so I think the Hat decided to put you where you’d stand out rather than blend in. And I think that’s the same logic it used for Albus.”

“Getting sorted in Slytherin made him stand out alright,” Rose agrees.

“So know this: neither I nor your father mind that none of our kids are Gryffindors, even if your father likes to joke about it. We trust the Hat and we know our kids. So, before we go, because they’re kind of looking impatient over there, let me just tell you this: I am proud of you Rose, because you are you.”

“Even if I turned out to be a prankster?” Rose asks, half-jokingly, half-serious.

“Maybe even because of that,” Hermione says and Rose jumps at her, capturing her mother in a tight hug.

“Thank you, mom,” she says, for the first time realising how much it weighed on her, the pressure of disappointing her mom.

“Nothing to thank me for,” Hermione says, returning the hug, “now, let’s go.”

As mother and daughter join the rest of the family to cross the barrier to Muggle London, Rose realises a weight she hadn’t even noticed was there has now been lifted off her shoulders. Now all she has to think about is the Summer break, and she’s got a trip to Japan to look forward to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the reasons that should be obvious by the end of this chapter, I'll do my best to have chapter 4 posted within this month, before the hype of a certain Summer event dies.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed this. All comments are greatly appreciated. :D
> 
> BTW, have you guys read _The Cursed Child_? Did you guys enjoy it? Let me know as well. ;)


	4. Auror Observations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When his son is fourteen years old, Harry begins asking himself some questions about him, and they aren’t some Albus would have felt inclined to answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I know I owe you guys a massive apology. I'm really sorry it took me so long to update, but I hope this chapter makes it worth the wait. Also, I come bearing gifts (you'll find out at the end of the chapter).
> 
> I hope you enjoy this!

The first thing Harry James Potter does when the Healer at St. Mungo’s places his first-born child on his arms is silently freak out in panic. Having the small baby in his hands makes it sink in the fact that he’s got no idea of how to be a father. He never met his, and his aunt and uncle were as far from a good example as it was humanly possible to be, unless Dolores Umbridge had had children, and now that’s a scary thought. Harry’s wife, almost too out of it from giving birth and the analgesic potions the Healers gave her, has to remind Harry to breathe and, guessing the origin of his panic, points out he does know great fathers, starting with her own. Harry relaxes at that and takes in a relieved breath, just in time before the baby could sense his father’s tension.

Two years later, Harry’s second child is born. It’s a boy, just like the first, and has green eyes, just like Harry. When Ginny points out how similar the little baby is to his daddy a chill runs through Harry’s spine. Over the past two years Harry’s learnt to overcome his fear of being a bad father, mostly trying to do everything Arthur and Molly Weasley did with their children and the exact opposite his uncle and aunt used to do. But seeing a little boy so similar to himself, Harry is overcome by the protective urge to make sure this kid doesn’t grow up the way he did. Of course that applies with all his children, but with his second in particular, it feels different. It feels imperative.

By the time Albus Severus Potter is five years old, it becomes clear that the resemblance between father and son is somewhat of a bother to the boy. Unlike his older brother James, who loves looking like his dad (except for the eyes) and carrying the names of two war heroes, Albus looks decidedly uncomfortable when someone tells him he looks just like his father. Harry is never offended by it, because he can relate too much with the feeling, and knows what its like to wish to be seen as an individual in its own right.

The thing is Harry does see a lot of himself in Albus, maybe more than in his other two kids: the boy is determined to the point of stubbornness, and some people even say the boy surpasses his father in that regard; he’s also very resourceful and inventive, which, paired with his brother’s knack for pranking and his sister’s utter dauntlessness, makes for a very serious parenting challenge. And unlike James, who is a dedicated rule-breaker, Albus is more of a see-how-far-I-can-bend-the-rules type of guy, often finding loopholes whenever Harry and Ginny ground him.

As the years go by, Harry realises that more than being similar to him, Albus possesses an amplified version of some of Harry’s traits. With time, he also realises that those traits are the very qualities that almost landed him in Slytherin when he first arrived at Hogwarts. And while his son is certainly brave (or addicted to adrenaline, if you ask Ginny or James), Harry gets the feeling this time his son’s ambition will outweigh any other quality when his time to be sorted comes.

When it becomes clear that Albus will most likely be the first Potter to ever be sorted in Slytherin, Harry’s fears of being a bad father come back with full force. He knows how they’ve talked about that House at their home and shivers at the though of his son sitting in the Great Hall, shaking and begging the Hat not to place him in Slytherin, where it’s clear he belongs. He doesn’t want that and tries to do his best to reassure Albus that he won’t mind at all where he is sorted. He didn’t succeed in making his son board the train at ease, but at least once Albus did end up in Slytherin, the boy could really see how much his family didn’t mind at all.

The real surprise came with his son’s first letter: Albus had made a friend, and it was the last person Harry would have expected: the son of his school rival (and for a while, his war enemy) Draco Malfoy. Harry and Ginny were surprised at first, but realised there was no point in starting a fire where there wasn’t one. Time proved them right, as Albus and Scorpius Malfoy forged the kind of friendship Harry had always wanted for his son: one just like his and Ron’s, like James and Sirius’.

By the time Albus finishes his third year, Harry realises with elation that his biggest fear never came to be: he’d been a father for sixteen years and his three children were happy and healthy and none of them had ever suffered anything remotely like what he went through with his aunt and uncle. Furthermore, he prided himself of really knowing his kids, which he jokingly puts down to his acute Auror observation skills.

Funnily enough, that’s not enough to overcome the stereotype that Potter men are unobservant and thick, which is why Albus is convinced, when he boards the train at platform nine and three-quarters to begin his Hogwarts education, that Harry James Potter is the most oblivious parent there is.

He could not have been more wrong.

 

“So, this is it, Malfoy Manor,” Harry says as he and Albus apparate at Wiltshire, just outside the boundaries of Malfoy State. Before them, a pair of large iron gates protects a long gravel driveway that stretches between two tall yew hedges and leads to the huge castle-like mansion.

“So, Scorpius said we’re being expected, so the gate should let us in,” Albus says unsurely.

“It sure looks locked to me,” Harry points out, but Albus pays him no mind and walks through the gate as though it is made of smoke, “or not,” Harry finishes with a shrug and crosses the gate as well.

It’s a relatively long walk from the gate to the manor itself, the sounds of fountains and bird chirping reaches them through the hedges and when Harry looks up, he can see a few albino peacocks gracefully roving on top of them. Albus looks fascinated by the pristine whiteness of the traditionally multicoloured regal birds.

The manor itself is stunning, huge and imposing, with large diamond-paned windows that are sure to bathe the whole place with light. There are several spires on the roof, making it look like an ancient gothic castle. From the front steps you can reach the gardens that were hidden by the hedges, each with an intricate layout and decorated by a big fountain, with several more peacocks littered around them. As they approach the front steps, the front door swings inward on its own, revealing a wide entrance hall that leads to a wooden double staircase, from which Draco Malfoy is descending to welcome his visitors.

“Potters, I’m glad you could make it,” he says formally but amicably as he motions the two men to come inside, “Scorpius should be coming down in no time.”

As if on cue, the sound of running steps is heard coming from the upper floor, and soon enough a miniature version of the man who just received them is sprinting down the stairs to greet them.

“Al, you’re here!” Scorpius says as he traps Albus in a tight hug. Now that there’s no distance between them, Harry must review previous his assessment of Scorpius as a miniature Draco, as the boy has clearly grown from the last time he saw him. Still not as tall as his father but he’ll probably outgrow him in a few years. Looking at Albus, Harry realises for the first time that his youngest son is very much on his way of being taller than him too. When did they grow up?

He turns to Draco, wondering if he’d find the other man mirroring his realisation, but the older Malfoy’s face is as inscrutable as ever.

“Come on, I’ve got to show you something,” Scorpius says and, before any of the adults can speak a word, he drags Albus back outside the house and into the garden, their fathers following them with their eyes. Harry can’t help an amused smile from creeping on his face.

“This is just like two years ago, when you brought Scorpius to our house for the first time,” he chuckles.

“Indeed,” Draco agrees, “shall we move to the living room?”

Harry follows Draco to a large, ample room dressed luxuriously with expensive furniture, most of it matching the white colour palette that dominates the interior of the manor. Harry wonders if the brightness of the Malfoy household is new, or if the sombreness he remembers was mostly due to the circumstances of the first and only time he visited it. Draco sits on one of the couches and beckons Harry to do the same, and the Auror finds himself sitting in what’s possibly the most comfortable couch he’s ever sat on in his entire life.

“Blinky,” Draco calls and a young house-elf appears on one side of the living room. He’s dressed in the usual pillowcase elf attire, but he’s wearing a comfortable-looking pair of Slytherin socks on his feet, Harry notes.

“Yes, master Draco?” the house-elf says.

“Could you bring us some tea and a selection of mother’s pastries?” Draco asks.

“Of course, master,” Blinky says and disappears.

“Nice socks,” Harry comments, “I thought your house-elves didn’t wear socks.”

“Oh, that’s your son’s influence,” Draco replies, “Scorpius saw Kreacher’s attire at your house and insisted on giving Blinky a pair of socks as a gift. It took a while to convince the poor elf he wasn’t being fired, now he never takes them off and takes great care of them. He still refuses to wear anything else aside from his pillowcase, though.” Harry laughs at Draco’s tale.

“House-elves are stubborn,” he says, “Ginny and I are discussing how to broach the subject of retirement to Kreacher without him throwing a fit. He won’t admit he’s getting older.”

“Stubborn they are,” Draco agrees just as Blinky comes back carrying a tray with a full tea service.

Draco takes a few sips of the tea Blinky pours them before resuming the conversation.

“So, this summer,” he begins.

“Right,” Harry says, “so Albus is staying here for a week, then we’re all meeting back at Godric’s Hollow for the Olympic Games.”

“The muggle sports thing,” Draco clarifies.

“Right, the muggle sports thing,” Harry parrots.

“I still don’t understand what has our sons so enthralled by muggle sports.”

“I’ll be honest with you, during my childhood with the muggle side of my family, I never cared much for sports, though that might have been because sports plus my cousin plus me would have made a pretty terrible combination. I never thought I’d come to like a sport as much as I like Quidditch, so, yeah, it’s probably weirder for me, but you know, Albus is as sporty as they come, so, it’s not really that surprising.”

“And my son loves all things muggle, which, I’ll have to admit probably opens a fructiferous business opportunity if he plays his cards right, as I believe it’s his intention, so it makes sense too,” Draco concedes.

“So, we’ll be meeting at Godric’s Hollow, where we’ll take a portkey to the island of South Iwo Jima in Japan. There we’ll travel to Tokyo, where the Olympics are taking place.”

“And stay there for two weeks,” Draco adds.

“After which we’ll travel back to Godric’s Hollow by portkey on August tenth. The last month of the break we’ll be at the Burrow and at Hermione’s parents in Muggle London like every year, and as usual, Scorpius is invited,” Harry finishes.

“And it’s appreciated, but this time, we’ll have to decline. This year we’re visiting Italy with Astoria’s parents and won’t be back until the last week of August to buy Scorpius’ books for Hogwarts.”

“Sounds great,” Harry says, “have fun.”

“We will,” Draco responds, “very well, then it’s settled,” he says as he puts his tea cup back in the tray and stands up.

“Settled,” Harry agrees, leaving the comfortable couch as well, despite himself, “we’ll see you in Godric’s Hollow on the 23rd.”

“Indeed.”

As they walk back to the front door, Harry can’t stop looking around the house. The manor looks decidedly less gloomy and Harry wonders again if that’s because it’s noon and the only time he’d ever stepped foot on it was at night. His eyes find a long hallway with the floor covered by an expensive-looking carpet and the walls lined with portraits of serious pale-faced men and women. Even with all the light filtering through the numerous windows and the enchanted chandelier that makes it look like there’s sunlight filtering through the ceiling, he can’t help feeling like he’s staring at darkness when his eyes settle on the door at the end of the hallway.

“If it’s the drawing room you’re looking for, you’ll find it on the other side of that door,” Draco says with clear annoyance in his voice, startling Harry out of his thoughts.

“Sorry, I —” Harry stammers.

“This house is not the same, Potter, nor are its inhabitants,” Draco tells him.

“I know that,” Harry replies, as serious and earnest as he can, “sorry for that.”

The tension is broken by Albus and Scorpius stomping through the still open front door, laughing and at evident ease. Harry does his best to hide the awkwardness on his face from his last exchange with Malfoy and he can see the other man doing the same.

“There is a Quidditch pitch,” Albus tells his father, completely out of breath, “an actual Quidditch pitch in their back yard.”

“Is that so?” Harry asks, his eyebrows shooting up.

“And a swimming pool, and a hedge maze,” Albus adds and Harry tries very hard not to think _rich people cliché_ , but he does.

“Is that so?” Harry asks amusedly and chuckles at his son’s mesmerised expression. “Well, I’m off, I’ll see you on the 23rd and remember to behave. Don’t break anything, things are expensive here.” Albus glares at his father while Scorpius snorts and Draco rolls his eyes.

“I’ll be sure to send you the receipt,” Draco deadpans, making Harry laugh and Albus glare even harder.

“Alright, I’m off,” Harry says again, ruffling his son’s hair before leaving.

 

July 23rd arrives and the Potter house is a mess. There are open trunks all over the living room and most of what should be their contents is still scattered around on the couches.

“Lily, are you sure you’ve got everything you need?” Harry asks.

“For the umpteenth time, yes!” Lily replies from the upstairs bathroom, where she’s brushing her teeth.

“That’s what you said last time, when we visited Fleur’s parents at Montpellier, and you forgot to pack your favourite boots, and then we had to apparate all the way back here to fetch them.”

“Merlin, it happened one time!” Lily shrieks, a toothbrush clearly inside her mouth, “and I was nine!”

The doorbell rings and Harry knows he’s screwed. The Malfoys and his son are here and he’s nowhere near ready.

“I’ll be there in a second!” Harry calls as he tries to spell all the trinkets around the living room inside the trunks.

“Merlin, Potter, I know you’re not even halfway packed and you’re probably running around like a chicken with its head cut off as we speak, so knock it off and let us in,” Draco calls from outside.

“Merlin!” Harry huffs as he hurries to open the door, “sorry, I—” he stops short as he notices Draco’s eyes zeroing in on his left hand, where he’s holding a pair of underpants, which he promptly hides behind his back, to Draco’s amused raised eyebrow. Beside him, Astoria Malfoy is trying very hard not to look equally amused, while Scorpius snickers and Albus face-palms.

“Sorry, come on in,” Harry says as last as he opens the door wider, “and excuse the mess. We’ll be ready in a minute.”

The Malfoys and Albus walk inside, the adults pulling discreet rolling trunks behind them, while both teenagers carry each a small duffle bag, clearly all four ready to leave for Japan at a moment’s notice.

At that moment Ginny Potter comes walking down the stairs, followed by a trunk hovering behind her. It looks like she’s also ready. Ginny looks at the visitors in the living room and offers a polite smile.

“Well, hello, welcome …” she is cut short when she sees the mess in the room, then turns at Harry with a look that says _I’m surprised, but I really don’t know why_ , “seriously?”

“I’ll get right on it,” Harry promises as he hurries back to finish packing, his underpants still clutched tight inside his fist.

“You’ll have to excuse my husband,” Ginny says as she helps Harry pack with swift movements of her wand, “even when we were at Hogwarts, packing has never been his strong suit.”

At that moment the doorbell rings again and Ginny magically opens it from where she stands, revealing Ron, Hermione, Rose and Hugo, all carrying their respective luggage.

“Sorry we’re late, we had …” Hermione starts but trails off when she sees Harry and the open trunks, “seriously?”

“Alright, I’m done, I’m done,” Harry says as he casts what he feels it’s like the umpteenth Undetectable Extension Charm on the trunk to make everything fit before shoving the underpants he was clutching and shutting it close.

At that moment Lily comes down the stairs carrying a duffle bag.

“I’m ready,” she informs everyone, “and before you ask, yes, I packed all the shoes I’ll need,” she tells her father.

“Alright, we’re ready, I’ll prepare the portkey then,” Harry says as he picks a wide tin tray from the floor and places it on the table, “this should be wide enough for all of us.”

“How many of us are travelling?” Draco inquires.

“Using this portkey, just us. James is travelling with Teddy and Louis from Bill and Fleur’s house, Molly and Arthur are taking a portkey from the Burrow, and Hermione’s parents’ portkey has probably already left, though theirs was supposed to take them directly to Tokyo,” Harry explains.

“And why exactly are we headed to the Volcano Islands first?” Draco asks.

“Though the wizarding world doesn’t usually pay much mind to the muggle world, the Olympics gather enough attention that a number of wizards show up every edition, especially since in some countries the breach is not as wide as it is in Britain, so the Japanese Ministry of Magic is having them all arrive at South Iwo Jima, as it is deserted of muggles, but there’s a wizarding population fit to receive us all.”

“And that’s where their magic school is, so we’re also getting a tour,” Ron adds.

“But since my parents are muggles, they’re checking in directly at a muggle hotel in Tokyo,” Hermione intervenes.

“And the rest of us are staying at a wizarding hotel the Japanese Ministry has reserved,” Ron adds.

“So that’s why we’re going there first. Everyone ready?” Harry asks as Ginny double checks all locks on the house and places wards to protect it while empty. At everyone’s agreeing nod Harry points his wand to the tin tray, “ _Portus_.” The tray shakes a little and glows brightly blue for a few seconds. “Alright it’s set, everyone, gather.”

All four Potters, four Weasley-Grangers and three Malfoys surround the living room table, holding firmly onto their luggage, and place a single finger on the tray and soon they’re all pulled into it and whisked away from the Potters’ living room.

 

The island of South Iwo Jima is essentially a very large volcano in the middle of the ocean, with very little shore around it, covered mostly by rocks and scattered with small wooden cabins. The shore is already filled with people running around helping the incoming travellers get settled. The weather is pretty windy and heavy clouds darken the sky. While it was half past nine in the morning when they left, it’s half past six in the evening in Japan, meaning it won’t be long before all daylight is gone. Harry sees a tall dark-haired man holding a clipboard, possibly in his thirties, approaching their party.

“Yokoso!” the man greets them, “My name is Koichiro Iwamoto, I work for the International Magical Cooperation Bureau at the Japanese Ministry of Magic, and I will be assisting you in your travel to Tokyo. Welcome to Japan! Can I have your names, please?”

“Good evening, thank you” Harry greets, “we have a reservation under Potter.”

“Very well”, Iwamoto says as he looks for the Potters in the pieces of parchment attached to his clipboard, “your portkey to is set to leave at nine o’clock. In the mean time, the Ministry has arranged for a tour around the island, which is the home our Wizarding School”, he adds as he leads them to a clear area where there are several broomsticks mounted on wooden racks.

“The tour will be on broom, it will be a short flight around the island. How many people are you?”

“We’re eleven, but we’re expecting five more,” Harry answers.

“They’ll have to take the next tour, I’m afraid. How many of you are underage?”

“Five,” Ginny answers.

“Underage wizards will have to travel accompanied by an adult, wizards above thirteen years old can ride alone if their parents consent to it.”

At that, Albus, Rose and Scorpius turn to their respective parents with pleading eyes, while Lily and Hugo look thoroughly disappointed.

“Dad!” Albus and Scorpius exclaim in unison, making Harry and Draco exchange amused looks. Meanwhile Ron and Hermione seem to be having a silent conversation about Rose.

“It’s safe, right?” Ginny asks glancing at the overcast sky.

“Completely safe,” Iwamoto assures them, “our Quidditch team practices on this island, which is protected by the most powerful concealment charms that make both brooms and the school at the summit invisible to muggle eyes. Also, the Japanese Ministry of Magic has provided last generation broomsticks to ensure your safety during your flight.”

“Alright, I’ll tell you what, you can fly your own broom, but only if you promise to stick with the group, don’t go off by yourself,” Harry tells Albus.

“Deal,” Albus says.

“The same goes for you,” Draco tells Scorpius, who nods his agreement.

“And you,” Hermione tells Rose.

“So there will be two underage wizards flying with an adult,” Iwamoto summarises, “which makes it nine brooms, plus three more travellers that were waiting for a group to gather. This way please.”

It is decided Ron will fly with Hugo, as he’s a more skilled flier than Hermione, while Ginny will take Lily with her. Meanwhile, Harry and Draco will make sure to keep Albus and Scorpius in check. They join a tall golden blond wizard wearing silvery blue robes as well as a marriage in its forties, who had arrived before them.

Everyone mounts their given broomsticks and follow Iwamoto’s lead, taking off into the wind. Soon the entire island is visible below their feet, and an exquisite pagoda-like palace made of mutton-fat jade is visible at the topmost point.

“Wow,” Harry can hear Albus exclaim in a choked breath and Harry can’t help but agree.

The palace is magnificent. It looks seven stories tall, with traditional Japanese roofs. The mutton-fat jade walls shine with the few sunrays that haven’t been covered by clouds. The main building is surrounded by a rampart with small turrets on each corner, and between the edges of it and the palace lays an opulent garden scattered with cherry trees and fountains.

“That’s Mahoutokoro,” Iwamoto says over the noise of the wind, “Japan’s School of Magic.”

“It’s breath-taking,” Scorpius says.

“Mahoutokoro’s Quidditch pitch is built on the opposite side of the island to the one where you arrived,” Iwamoto says, “you’ll see it as soon as we go around the volcano.”

The Quidditch pitch is as majestic as the palace itself. It sits on the skirts of the island, the stands are built with cypress wood and large banners with the school’s coat of arms decorate the sides.

“Mahoutokoro prides itself for its intense and demanding Quidditch training system, which has lead Japan to be one of the top teams in the world,” Iwamoto explains.

“The best,” Scorpius agrees and Harry sees Albus shoot him a look. He knows that’s one of the very few topics where his son and his best friend don’t see eye to eye: while Albus is a fierce Brazil fan, Scorpius is an avid Japan supporter.

“Quidditch players train under the inclement weather of this island,” Iwamoto continues, making an effort to make himself heard over the increasing sound of the wind, which drowns even the Amplifying Charm he casted on his voice, “and often have to dodge muggle airplanes that change course and are unaware of the players flying under the Concealment Charm”.

The weather deteriorates further and a thunderstorm seems to be on the way. They’re still on the other side of the island, the volcano standing in the way of the camp.

“I think it’s best we cut this tour short, before the storm catches up with us,” Iwamoto says and everyone follows his lead. They make a small ascent, but it’s interrupted when a deafening roar is heard and Iwamoto yells at everyone to descend as soon as they can.

The storm brewing not far from the island forced a muggle airplane to alter its course, just like Iwamoto explained they often did, and it goes right through the spot where the group flied. They all manage to avoid the plane, but unfortunately, that meant flying away from the protection from the wind the volcano offered, and everyone is swiped away in different directions.

The wind it’s at its strongest now, and rain has started to pour, so when Harry stabilises his broom, he can barely see two feet in front of him. In panic, he realises he can barely recognise the figures of the rest of the group struggling to regain control of their brooms. Harry tries to fly back to the place where the plane forced them apart so he can at least orientate himself again, but the rain makes locating anything nearly impossible.

“ _Impervius_!” Harry explains pointing his wand at his glasses in order to make them waterproof, but the improve is minimal. He tries again to locate his family but his search is fruitless. A few minutes later Iwamoto flies past him.

“We need to get back to the camp!” the man yells at him.

Harry looks around distressed. The silhouette of the island is barely visible, and he reckons he could probably find his way back, but he needs to find his family first.

“I need to find my family!” he yells at Iwamoto.

“Everyone’s safest bet it’s to go back the way we came from,” Iwamoto screams back, and Harry knows he’s right, but he can’t be sure all eleven of them will think the same way and head to back to the camp. Ginny, Hermione and Draco probably will figure out that’s what they need to do, but in his mind’s eye he can see Albus flying around in the storm helplessly trying to find them.

“I need to find my family,” he repeats, more to himself this time, before taking off to scour the area.

A few lightning cast light on the sky every now and then, allowing Harry to look further away. He notices a flying form a few yards ahead of him, so he sprints towards it. When he gets close enough, he can see it’s Hermione.

“Ron and Ginny are on their way back to the camp,” she informs him, “they’re taking Hugo and Lily with them.”

A huge weight is taken off his chest, but he still needs to know the rest is okay.

“What about the rest?” he asks over the deafening sound of the storm.

“I’m trying to find them,” Hermione replies.

They split, but not far enough that they can’t see each other. A lightning flashes again, casting light over the jade structure of Mahoutokoro, barely visible under the rain now. Harry and Hermione make it back to the Quidditch pitch, and not far from there, Harry spots a shadow hovering mid-air.

“Over there!” he screams to Hermione as loud as he can and points towards the floating figure. It doesn’t really look like a person, but as they approach they realise it’s because it’s not one, but three of them. Draco and Astoria are flanking Scorpius and heading towards them.

“Have you seen anyone else?” Harry asks them.

“That man from the Ministry, he was escorting Rose to the camp,” Draco replies, “no-one else.”

“Over there!” Hermione yells, pointing at her right, “Al!”

Albus is a few yards away but Hermione catches his attention and he speeds to join the group.

“Where is everybody?” Albus asks.

“Your mom and Ron took off with Hugo and Lily,” Hermione says.

“Let’s get out of this storm,” Harry says, noticing there isn’t anyone left to find, and they all pack together while Hermione casts a variety of spells to try to block the rain around them. That’s when they hear the scream.

“Help!” a masculine voice calls from above. They all look back to the Quidditch pitch and find the couple that flew with them hovering a few feet over the goalposts. The woman seems to have let go of her broom and the man is trying to hold on to her with his arms, while he grasps the broom firmly between his legs, but his strength is wavering, he won’t be able to hold on much longer, nor will the broom.

Not a second later Albus takes off and heads towards the couple to help them.

“Albus!” Harry screams as he follows his son.

“Al, wait!” Scorpius yells too, but soon finds himself trapped between his two parents, who prevent him from flying away.

“You’re staying here,” Draco tells him.

Harry speeds after his son, but none of them make it in time to the man, who can no longer hold his wife and the witch slips from his grasp.

“No, Louise!” the man screams as he falls off his broom too.

Albus is quick enough and dives down after the woman, he manages to outspeed her falling body and get below her, then points his wand above him to cast a Hover Charm on her so her descent is slowed down and he can reach her with his broom. Meanwhile, Harry casts the same charm on Louise’s husband. Harry hears someone crying out an incantation close to him and turns to see the tall blond wizard that came with them approaching them with his hand in the air. The blond man uses a Summoning Charm to get the fallen broomstick back in the air before it crashes into the ocean.

As Harry and the blond wizard help the man back on his broom, Albus catches up with them with the rescued witch riding behind him holding onto his waist. Harry is next to him in an instant to make sure he’s alright.

“Are you okay?” he asks and his son nods, “don’t you ever do that again.”

“They needed help, dad,” Albus offers.

“I know that, just …” but Harry trails off. He’s never seen Albus look so much like himself as in that moment, he knows he would’ve done the exact same thing when he was his age. After all, that’s when he was ready to fight a colony of merpeople in order to rescue his friends.

They are soon joined by the rest of their group. Hermione casts a powerful spell that traces a shining light route for them to follow back to the camp and they all stick together to weather the storm.

Once they land, Ministry staff leads them to a nearby cabin, where Ginny, Ron, Lily, Rose and Hugo are waiting for them. The kids run towards Harry and Hermione to hug them, while Scorpius lets go of his father’s hold and goes after Albus.

“You just had to play hero, did you?” he accuses, and before Albus can respond, he envelops him in a hug as well.

“I’m only glad I managed to lift a full grown person in the air like you did in first year, remember?” Albus tells him, making Scorpius snort.

Hermione casts spells to dry them off as Iwamoto walks through the cabin doors, completely drenched by the rain and holding his broomstick in one hand.

“You’re all here?” he asks counting heads as he approaches them, “did all of you make it?”

“We did,” Harry assures him.

“I went back after I got the girl to safety, but they told me a large group had just flew in so I came here to check if it was you.”

“We all did,” Ron tells him, “and thank you for helping my daughter. I don’t know how I could possibly repay you.”

“Knowing you’re all here safe makes me happy enough,” Iwamoto assures them. Just then, another Japanese Ministry employee walks in and calls for Iwamoto’s help, so the man excuses himself before leaving the cabin, bumping in the way with Molly and Arthur Weasley, followed by James, Teddy and Louis, who are completely drenched by the rain.

“We heard you were the last group to leave for a tour and that you were caught by the storm,” Molly says, “are you all okay?” She turns to look at everyone in the room, doing a mental headcount.

“We’re all fine, Molly,” Harry says, “when the storm hit we all turned back, we just hit a small setback on the way,” he adds, catching Albus’ eye, who shoots him a pleading look. He decides to spare Molly the details of Albus’ heroics. He’s still telling Ginny later that night, though.

“If by small setback you mean nearly being hit by a plane,” Draco replies sardonically.

“Now we know why they Japanese are so good at Quidditch, if they train in these conditions,” Scorpius notes.

Iwamoto walks back inside the cabin and presents them with a large round mirror, which he places on a wooden table.

“Your portkey is set to leave in two minutes, please hold on to this so it can take you to your hotel,” he says pointing at the mirror.

For the second time that day, everyone gathers around the portkey, which soon turns a bright blue. Upon placing a finger on it, everyone is whisked away to the lobby of a big luxurious hotel in the heart of Wizarding Tokyo, where they settle in without any further incident. Hermione gets in contact with her parents, who have checked in at a muggle hotel not far from their location. Everyone goes to bed as soon as they get to their rooms, as they’re all exhausted and the Opening Ceremony is scheduled for the next day during the evening, and they’re eager to get as much rest as they can.

 

The National Olympic Stadium in Tokyo is already bursting with people when they arrive for the Opening Ceremony. Ministry of Magic staff within the muggle government has set apart stands for the wizarding community, and they’re all given clear instructions about the do’s and don’ts regarding violations to the International Statute of Secrecy. The Potter-Weasley-Granger clan, plus the Malfoys, sit together near ground level, where they get an excellent view of the Stadium.

Harry had seen parts of previous Opening Ceremonies during his time at the Dursleys, but he never paid much attention to them, mainly because he was mostly worried about being out of his relative’s reach at the time, but now that he’s present for one he notices how much they differ from their Quidditch counterparts, and not only because they lack a performance by mythical creatures as team mascots, but also because of the huge number of countries participating, as he notes during the nations parade.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” a female voice calls from the loudspeakers, “please welcome the delegations of the Games of the XXXII Olympiad!” and then the voice starts calling the different countries by name.

“Greece!”

“Why does Greece come first?” Draco asks as a large group of men and women clad in blue and white uniforms march into the Stadium, following one of them carrying the flag of Greece.

“According to this, the first ever Olympic Games where held in Olympia, Greece, in 776 BC!” Rose reads from a leaflet they were handed at the entrance of the Stadium, “and the first modern age Olympics took place in Athens, so they’re the first country to walk in the parade, and Japan is last, as they’re hosts.”

Next up is Albania, then Algeria, then Angola, then Antigua and Barbuda. Some countries have only two or three athletes while some others have hundreds. The list goes on and it takes a while before they even reach the letter B. When Brazil comes out, Albus claps loudly, even though Harry doubts Albus knows any Brazilian athlete other than Quidditch players, especially considering he cheers for Germany when it comes to football.

That doesn’t seem to mater when Great Britain comes up, as they all forget about wizarding and muggle differences and are imbued with huge pride as a delegation of nearly three hundred people marches out with the UK’s colours. A lean handsome man leads the team carrying the flag.

“Does it say who the flag bearer is, Rose?” Harry asks as his niece peruses her leaflet.

“Tom Daley, diver, has already been a medallist in the past two editions of the Olympic Games,” she reads.

It’s the Japanese delegation, of course, the one that makes the audience explode as it marches into the field, ensuing a deafening round of applause and cheers.

An entertaining show of light, music and dance displays Japanese culture to the world, and a splendid show of fireworks marks the end of the Ceremony. Harry can hear Arthur commenting on every muggle quirk he finds curious, like the inflatable clappers the audience carries or the way muggles take out their mobiles and use them to make the stands look like a starry sky. On his other side, he sees young Scorpius mesmerised by the displays of muggle technology. Harry looks across him to find Draco staring at his son with amused eyes before locking eyes with Harry, with a look that says _Oh, what can you do?_

When they’re all standing up to leave, Harry notices Albus is staring intently at someone on the stands, and realises it’s the tall blond wizard that helped them during the storm the night before. Albus looks like he’s bursting with excitement, while the other man approaches them, looking curiously at Albus.

“Hello, there,” Harry greets, “you travelled with us last night, didn’t you?”

“Indeed I did,” the wizard replies, “my name is —”

“You’re Svenfrid Söderström!” Albus blurts before the other man can introduce himself, “it’s you, isn’t it?”

“That’s right, I am,” the man answers with a kind smile and Albus grins in delight, though Harry can’t for the life of him figure out who Svenfrid Söderström is supposed to be.

“He’s the seven-time winner of the Kvastloppet! The annual broom race in Sweden!” Albus tells his dad excitedly.

“Oh! Nice to meet you,” Harry says, extending his hand for Svenfrid to shake. He knows about the broom race that takes place in Sweden every year, but he’s never really followed it. But, of course, his son being his son, Albus knows about it and about Svenfrid Söderström. “I’m Harry and this is my son Albus,” he says.

“The pleasure is all mine. It’s not every day you get to meet the man who defeated possibly the deadliest dark wizard of all times,” Svenfrid replies, taking Harry’s hand, “and your son is an incredible flier. What an amazing dive I saw yesterday, and during a storm, I might add.”

Albus blushes but beams with pride at the same time.

“It was nothing, really,” he says shyly.

“Oh, it was something, believe me. Let me guess, you play Quidditch at Hogwarts, don’t you?”

“Not anymore,” Albus replies sounding a bit down about it.

“But how come? With skills like those,” Svenfrid asks genuinely surprised.

“I just … I don’t know. I mean, I love flying and I like watching a good game of Quidditch and all, but somehow I didn’t felt, I don’t know, like it was enough? I don’t know, there was something missing when I played,” Albus shrugs, visibly self-conscious, just like every time somebody brings up his decision to quit Quidditch.

“But you love flying, huh?” Svenfrid muses, “have you ever considered broom racing?”

At that Harry snaps to attention. The man didn’t just suggest what he thinks he did, did he? But Albus’ eyes open wide in wonder.

“Broom racing?” he repeats, “I — I’d never really thought about it before.”

“Albus, broom racing isn’t like playing Quidditch, it’s really dangerous,” Harry says, suddenly remembering some Aurors at the office talking about the latest edition of the Kvastloppet, and he’s pretty sure he remembers one of them saying something about the course going through a dragon reservation.

“Because Quidditch isn’t,” Albus deadpans before turning his attention back to Söderström, “tell me more about broom racing,” he demands and the other man laughs.

“It’s only the greatest wizarding sport there is, though I admit my opinion might be somewhat biased. I’ll tell you what, why don’t you take my card,” he says handing Albus a small rectangular piece of stiff parchment, “as you may know, I fly for a professional broom racing team called the Stockholm Storm Petrels. Every year we organise a two-week summer camp for young fliers. If you are interested, and if your parents agree, you should send me an owl and we’ll be happy to take you in. Broom racing has its risks, like any sport, but I assure you it’s as safe as playing Quidditch, if not more,” he says, addressing the last part to Harry.

“Sounds awesome!” Albus says staring at Svenfrid’s card.

“We’ll definitely think about it,” Harry says, knowing full well a definite refusal would only crush Albus, but not at all eager to take Svenfrid up on his offer.

“I hope to hear from you, Albus,” Svenfrid says.

“Oh, you will,” Albus assures him, “are you staying here for the whole Games?”

“Yes I am. I find sports a truly edifying endeavour. You can always learn something from sports different from yours, muggle or otherwise. I do recommend the cycling events. They’re the closest muggles get to the adrenaline of flying on a broom. Unless you count motorised sports, of course, but you won’t find any of those at the Olympics.”

“Oh, we’ll make sure to check them out!” Albus says excitedly.

“Well, I’m off. The road cycling race starts early in the morning and I’m looking forward to some rest, the trip here was certainly tiresome,” Svenfrid says, “it was a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise, it was a pleasure,” Harry says.

“Yes, it was great meeting you, Mr. Söderström,” Albus says.

The man leaves, and Harry and Albus turn around to find the rest of their family and the Malfoys waiting for them. Harry’s eyes land immediately on an amused-looking Ginny who’s got her arms crossed and an eyebrow up.

“So … broom racing?” it’s all she says and Harry raises his hands in the air, in a clear _don’t look at me_ gesture.

 

Albus is utterly delighted by the road cycling competition. After returning to their hotel from the Opening Ceremony, the whole group sat down to plan the events they would attend to. That first day, Harry and Ginny take Albus and Scorpius to the Imperial Palace Garden where the race takes place, after which they meet Draco, Astoria and Louis at the Makuhari Messe Convention Centre for the fencing competitions, while James and Teddy are on the other side of the city watching the judo bouts.

Ron, Hermione and her parents take Rose, Hugo and Lily to the equestrian event, while Arthur drags Molly all across the city, trying to catch as much events as they can, getting frequently confused by the rules and procedures of every sport.

Then it’s decided they’ll all meet at the Bay Zone for the gymnastics competitions, which Hermione is really eager to see.

Svenfrid bumps into them at the road race, where Albus is completely entranced by the cyclists zooming past them and is honestly surprised by the way the competitors ride their bikes without holding the handlebars after they cross the finish line, some of them celebrating their result with their hands up in the air, some others high-fiving the crowd and some others merely stretching their arms, all without falling off their bikes.

“You were right,” Albus tells Svenfrid, “it’s bloody awesome!”

 

A few days later they all gather at a restaurant in Wizarding Tokyo to celebrate both Harry’s birthday and James’ O.W.L.s results, which were waiting for him one day at the lobby of their hotel. James is over the moon, as he got Exceeds Expectations on all subjects required to pursue an Auror career, and he even got an Outstanding on Defence Against the Dark Arts. His grades on Astronomy and History of Magic, though, weren’t as shiny, as he got Poor on the first and Troll on the second.

“I did it, dad!” James exclaims excited beyond himself, “I even got Outstanding on Defence Against the Dark Arts, just like you did! I’m gonna be an Auror!”

“I’m proud of you, son,” Harry tells him, “but don’t drop the ball now, you still need the same marks in your N.E.W.T.s for you to be accepted into Auror training.”

“I won’t, I promise,” James says, still unable to tear his eyes from the piece of parchment containing his results, not quite believing the dream is still alive.

Harry insists they’re spoiling him as he’s showered with all kinds of gifts once they finish desert, gifts that include a set of luxury quills from Hermione, a Snitch-shaped paperweight from James and an elegant winter cloak from Ginny. Even the Malfoys got him something, and Harry is at first unsure of what to make of that, but he figures pureblood etiquette would prevent them from showing up at a birthday celebration empty-handed. And they’re not bad gifts either, he realises, as he unwraps a pair of fancy dragon-hide gloves from Draco and a bottle of expensive French wine from Astoria. Scorpius’ gift is a little more unconventional and Harry barks out a laugh when he tears the wrapping open.

It’s an antique wooden clock, which is pretty much like the one the Potters own at their house: it has five golden hands, one for every family member, and instead of the time, the face shows where each Potter is currently located: “home”, “school”, “work”, “travelling”, “lost”, “hospital”, “prison”, “in mortal peril”. The only difference with the one they already have, aside from the smaller size, is that next to “in mortal peril” it can be read: “in mortal peril, for real this time”.

Harry finds the gift hilarious, but Ginny places her hand softly on Harry’s, smiles sweetly at Scorpius and turns to look at her husband with a decidedly reproachful stare.

“You are very sweet, Scorpius, but I am sure Harry’s hand will never be in mortal peril again because he’s Head of the Auror Office now, he delegates and doesn’t take part in chases across Diagon Alley anymore, isn’t that right?” Ginny says, her admonishing eyes still fixed on Harry.

“Oh, mom,” James laughs, “you just made aunt Luna sound realistic.”

Everyone laughs, though Harry tries very hard not to, but Ginny ends up admitting her naiveté and gives up with a resigned sigh.

 

During the rest of their stay, Harry is amused at how they all seem to connect every sport with aspects of wizard life they could relate to. Ginny, of course, gravitates towards the team sports, Draco comments on the what the fencer’s technique could provide to duelling, while James becomes very interested in learning about any kind of combat sport for his future Auror training. Meanwhile, his youngest son begins growing increasingly excited by any and all kinds of races: road cycling, track cycling, race walking, open water swimming, marathon. He is especially mesmerised by the BMX competitions.

“Look, dad! They’re flying! They’re actually flying!” he says to his father as he points at the men on the bikes jumping along a complicated undulating track, making Harry question if that isn’t maybe more dangerous than Quidditch. As they exit the Olympic Course, and collect Louis, who had taken off with a couple of girls from Mahoutokoro, Harry realises he and Ginny will have to sit down and seriously discuss the prospect of Albus doing broom racing.

The time comes during the men’s triathlon event. Harry and Ginny are sitting at a table by a food stand while they wait for the competitors to finish the cycling leg of the race. Albus and Scorpius are off somewhere with Draco watching the men pass each other with their bikes.

“He’s gotten serious about it,” Ginny says.

“I can see that,” Harry agrees.

“Do you think it’s just the high of being here? I mean, as a Quidditch player, I get it, even if I’d never even heard of half of these sports before, it’s like this huge sports party.”

“And Albus loves sports so much,” Harry says.

“That he does,” Ginny concedes.

“But I think it’s more than that, you know. He’s always loved being on a broom, the height, the speed, the adrenaline of it. We both know how that feels better than most. But ever since he went to Hogwarts, he keeps saying how disappointed he is that there’s only one available sport. I think he was really counting on Quidditch to be it for him him, but it wasn’t.”

“You can’t just take off into the sunset when you’re a Chaser,” Ginny notes.

“Thank Merlin he wasn’t playing Seeker, he would’ve gone mental,” Harry laughs.

“And now the chance to try broom racing falls on his lap.”

“Doesn’t sound so bad,” Harry says.

“You’re actually considering it, aren’t you?” Ginny asks.

“Well …” Harry shrugs.

“It’s too dangerous,” Ginny insists.

“So is Quidditch, and we let him play. And we don’t object to James wanting to be an Auror, and that’s even more dangerous. I don’t … I don’t want Al to think it’s only okay to do things his parents did. So many in our generation, they had so little choice but to follow other people’s footsteps: my cousin, Malfoy … though he turned out alright in the end.”

“But he could’ve gotten there sooner, if only Lucius hadn’t been so …” Ginny muses.

“Exactly.”

“And you don’t think Albus only wants to do broom racing to separate himself from you,” Ginny questions.

“I think he’s been looking for so long for something that makes him tick the right way, you know?” Harry replies.

“He’s fourteen, nobody knows what they want to do with their lives at fourteen. I certainly didn’t,” Ginny points out.

“Neither did I, but think about it: he’s surrounded by all these people that are so passionate about everything. His brother wants to be an Auror, his cousin just founded a newspaper, his best mate is going to bring the wizarding world to the twenty-first century. I reckon he’s been looking for something that makes him want to go out and change the world, like every single person he knows has done in one way or another. All that Slytherin ambition he’s got, it must be hard for him for it to be unfocused.”

“I thought you said Al was the one you had the hardest time figuring out,” Ginny laughs, “sounds like you’re doing a great job.”

“Oh, it wasn’t without a whole deal of trying, I assure you,” Harry replies joining her in her laugh. By the time they sober up, it only takes one single look between them for them to know they’ve reached an agreement.

When they join Albus, Scorpius and Draco, the race is almost over. Still several yards away, they can make out a group of runners sprinting towards the finish line. As they approach, Harry can see it’s men from New Zealand, Spain, Germany, Switzerland and Great Britain, all of them too close to predict a winner, but far away from the other competitors. Mere feet away from the finish line, the triathletes from Britain and Spain sprint further away and are head to head now, and they both launch themselves towards the tape, making it impossible to know for sure who got there first. The arrival is reviewed on a screen that replays the final seconds in slow motion, where it becomes clear Britain won the race.

“Finishing at one hour, 46 minutes and 39 seconds, Great Britain’s Alistair Brownlee has just scored a golden triplet, winning his third consecutive Olympic gold medal,” is announced, first in Japanese and then in English.

The crowd roars as Brownlee celebrates his victory, carrying the Union Jack and waving it euphorically in the air. When Harry looks down at Albus, he sees him and Scorpius cheering madly, Albus lost in delight at the scene unfolded before him, and any lingering doubts Harry might have had are dissipated: racing is where his son will find happiness.

Albus jumps Scorpius from behind, enveloping his arms around his shoulders like an overexcited primate.

“Did you see that?” Albus asks his friend.

“I saw that,” Scorpius replies.

“And they didn’t just run, they swam and rode on their bikes as well, they’re like these super athletes.”

“And did you see how their times are registered with those trinkets attached to their ankles?” Scorpius asks fascinated, “how does that even work?”

“Only you would pay more attention to the technology used in the race than to the actual race,” Albus snorts and giggles, prompting Scorpius to blush, which only elicits more giggles from Albus.

“Nerd,” Albus says.

“Jock,” Scorpius replies, feigning disgust, but both friends burst out giggling.

It’s merely a normal instance of teasing between best mates, but something catches Harry’s eye as it plays out before his eyes. He can’t point out what it is, though, that stands out from his son and Scorpius’ interaction, but something gives him an unidentifiable feeling when he watches the pair giggle and joke with each other.

 

They run into Svenfrid again during the Closing Ceremony. For most of the show Albus and Scorpius spend their time chatting animatedly with the racer and when it’s all over Harry joins them.

“Great Games, weren’t they?” Svenfrid asks Harry.

“Yeah, they were good. Do you really come to see them every time?”

“As I said before, there’s much an athlete can learn from other sports, even muggle sports, different approaches, mentalities and such, so yes, I never miss the Games,” Svenfrid explains as they walk towards the Stadium’s exit. Ahead of them, Albus and Scorpius animatedly discuss their favourite moments of the Games, from the surfing competition to the abilities of the Serbian water polo goalkeeper.

“Your son is right in his element, isn’t he?” Svenfrid notes.

“That he is,” Harry agrees.

“I’d love to see that enthusiasm on a broom,” Svenfrid says, in a mildly teasing manner, like he’s trying not to pressure Harry about it, “but you seem unsure.”

“I … I don’t know what to think,” Harry admits, then after a pause he snorts and adds, “nah, who am I kidding? I’ve already made up my mind days ago. I think broom racing could be good for him.”

“I’m glad you think that way,” Svenfrid says, positively beaming, then he hands Harry a piece of parchment like the one he gave Albus after the Opening Ceremony, “here, you should take my card too, ask me any questions you have. We start on August 17th, but everybody arrives the day before. The camp is over by the thirtieth, right on time for Albus to go back to school.”

“Thank you, and yes, I think I’ll definitely be sending you an owl or two.” Harry says, examining Svenfrid’s card. It’s just like a muggle business card, only made of parchment, and has the silhouette of a man on a broom printed on it. The ink is enchanted, making the rider fly across the small card. On the back side there’s an address in Stockholm. Harry keeps the card in his pocket as they catch up with Albus and Scorpius.

“Hey, dad,” Albus says.

“Hey, Al. I was just talking to Mr. Söderström about his broom racing camp.” At that Albus’ eyes open wide and expectant, clearly still in doubt about whether or not he would be allowed to go.

“And I was just telling him that I’ll be dropping you in Sweden next week,” Harry adds, prompting his son to smile so widely it looks like the grin has permanently split his face.

“Yes!” Albus roars as he hugs his father, “thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you,” he says as his father chuckles fondly and strokes his hair.

“Well, I have to go, I’ll send you an owl with the things you’ll need, and I’ll see you next week,” Svenfrid tells them.

“See you in a week, Mr. Söderström!” Albus says.

 

It’s August 17th and Harry is a nervous wreck, completely unable to focus on work. The day before he took a portkey with his son to the middle of the Stora Sjöfallet National Park, some miles north from the locality of Porjus, in the Norrbotten County of Sweden. Just as Svenfrid had told them, the camp was taking place at an incredibly wide field concealed from muggles in the middle of the natural reserve, just below the Arctic Circle, which made for a spectacular sight during the summer.

Even for the middle of August, the weather that greeted them was chilly, colder than England’s, making both father and son shiver in the middle of the deserted field they arrived at. Following Svenfrid’s instructions, they crossed the invisible barrier that marked the beginning of the Concealment Charm casted on the place and the camping site appeared before their eyes, with several wooden cabins scattered across the place, all of them bursting with activity.

After filling all the paper work and signing all sorts of permits and insurance forms, Harry said goodbye to his son and braced himself for leaving him in Sweden for two weeks. It’s barely one day later and he’s trying to remind himself of the fact that he’s been sending his three kids to a boarding school for years now, and that this shouldn’t be any different, except for the part where his youngest son is currently several countries away.

He knows there’s no way an owl could make the trip from Sweden in a day, so it’s ridiculous to expect mail from Albus, but his head still perks up whenever the kid from the mail room passes by his office.

“Everything alright, chief?” asks a voice that pulls Harry out of his musings. It’s one of their best Aurors standing by the door, sporting a concerned but friendly look on his face.

“Yeah, yeah, just thinking about my son,” Harry says.

“I’m sure he’s doing alright, chief. I know it’s scary knowing he’s in another country, but if you think about it, he’s just one portkey away, right?” the Auror says.

“I suppose you’re right,” Harry concedes.

“Anyways, I was just dropping by to tell you Ketteridge’s assistant called. Ketteridge postponed the meeting again.”

“Shocking,” Harry says, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “I don’t know if the Head of the Department of Mysteries realises the more he keeps blowing us off, the more reasons we have to be suspicious of his department’s activities. In the end I’m gonna have to get the Minister involved. Anyway, thank you, Dennis.”

“No problem, chief,” the Auror says before disappearing from Harry’s doorframe.

 

News from his son finally arrive a few days later. Harry practically jumps the kid from the mail room when he tells him he’s got a letter for him. After apologising profusely to the poor frightened boy, Harry locks himself in his office to read the rather long piece of parchment his son sent him.

 

_Dear dad,_

_Camp is awesome! I can’t believe I never considered broom racing before, I love it! It’s nothing like Quidditch, where you have to be paying attention to all these balls, here you can just take off and speed away, faster, faster, faster, ‘till all you can hear is the blood pumping in your ears. It’s brilliant!_

_Söderström is like, pathologically obsessive with technique, which I guess is what makes him so good. He pointed out a couple of vices I have when holding the shaft, and every time he catches me holding it wrong he makes me land and do thirty push-ups. At first I couldn’t even do fifteen without collapsing on the ground, but now I can hold my own. Doesn’t mean I’m not doing my best to perfect my technique._

_We also do a lot work off the broom. Dryland, he calls it, and it makes Zabini’s workouts look like a walk in the park. We run, we jump, we lift stuff, we climb these wooden stairs with really tall steps, all at max speed. Söderström says we need to have really strong thighs and shoulders to handle being on the broom for so long. We also do these drills both on land and on the broom that are meant to make our reflexes faster, in case we need to dodge something while we fly._

_It kinda reminded me that story you told me about the Triwizard Tournament, when you stole an egg from a dragon flying on your broom. And, hey, did you know the Kvastloppet goes through a dragon reserve? And before you freak out, don’t worry, Söderström told me you have to be of age to sign up for that race. But there’s this junior competition going on here in Sweden the last week of the camp, and we are all participating. It’s just a pretty mild circuit through the field where the camp is settled. A kiddie race, really._

_Oh, and I got a letter from Score the other day, he’s doing great in Italy. He’s in this uber exclusive wizards-only beach in Tuscany, which, with the weather I’m currently living in, sounds pretty awesome. Sounds like he’s having a lot of fun, and so am I. Oh, and he also told me he was made Quidditch Captain! Isn’t it brilliant? It said so in his letter from Hogwarts and I’m so happy for him._

_Anyways, I’m hope you are doing great and that you and mom aren’t worrying sick about me. Say hello to James, Lily and all my cousins for me._

_Sincerely,  
Al_

_PS. I really want to thank you for letting me come, these past few days have been the best of my life, even if at times I’m too sore to exist. But really, thank you. You are the best dad ever._

 

Harry is practically vibrating with joy when he’s done reading. His son is alright, more than alright, actually. And now he can finally focus on work. He tucks the letter in his pocket and heads to the Department of Mysteries. He’s got a Head of Department to track down.

 

Thoughts of his son are still on Harry’s mind when he returns from work that afternoon. Ginny’s in Portree covering the League, James is out with Teddy and Lily is hanging out with Hugo at Ron and Hermione’s, so he’s all alone at home when the phone rings.

It is very rare that they receive a phone call, occasionally James or Lily use the phone to call muggle-born friends they’ve made at Hogwarts during the holidays, but it’s not too often, so Harry wonders who might be calling them now.

“Hello?” he asks after picking up the phone.

“Harry! Finally! I’ve been calling for days. I really, really need your help,” a distressed voice calls from the other end, speaking in such panic that it takes Harry a second to realise who it belongs to.

“D — Dudley?” Harry asks dubiously.

“Yes! It’s me. Harry, I need your help. Donnie got a letter. A letter! And then a man showed up and turned the table in our living room into a fountain. I’ve really got no idea of what to do. You need to help me,” Dudley says frantically in one breath, making it hard for Harry to understand what his cousin is talking about.

“Wait, calm down, Dudley, what are you talking about?”

“A letter! Donnie got a letter!” Dudley shrieks and Harry has to tighten his grip on the phone to keep it from slipping from his grasp. A letter, Dudley’s oldest son just got a letter and there is only one possible sender that could put his cousin in such a distraught state. Harry didn’t even remember Donovan Dursley turned eleven that year.

“Harry? Did you hear me? I said my Donnie got a —”

“A letter from Hogwarts,” Harry finishes for him.

“Yes! A letter from … from that place.”

“Please, tell me you’re didn’t do anything irrational, like keeping him from getting his letter,” Harry says slowly, halfway between angry and frightened.

“I didn’t!” Dudley exclaims immediately, “plus, a man showed up to talk to us about your school, he says he teaches there. But we still have a thousand questions.”

“Do you want me to go over there? I could drop by if you want,” Harry offers.

“Yes!” Dudley accepts immediately, “please come over here.”

“I’ll be there in a minute,” Harry says before hanging up the phone and scribbling a quick note to James and Lily to explain he probably won’t be home for dinner.

 

Harry decides against apparating at his cousin’s dressed in his Auror robes, figuring it’s probably best to at least look approachable, so he changes to muggle clothes before disapparating from Godric’s Hollow. Dudley receives him like a thirsty man in the desert.

“I’ve been trying to reach you for days now,” he says as he pulls him inside the house.

“We went on a family vacation to Japan, and then I dropped Al at summer camp. We haven’t really been home,” Harry explains.

“Well I’m glad the call connected today,” Dudley says as he guides Harry to the living room, “Jennifer will be back shortly with Donnie and Brittany.”

Harry follows him and watches amusedly as Dudley heads to a cabinet and breaks open a bottle of scotch. He pours two glasses and gulps one down in one go before offering the other to Harry.

“You know, there’s no need to act like some tragedy happened,” Harry points out as he takes the glass from his cousin.

“But it did!” Dudley exclaims.

“Dudley …” Harry says in a warning tone, suddenly seeing his uncle Vernon in his cousin’s face, full of prejudice and hate.

“It’s not the fact that he’s got … magic or whatever, alright? That _maybe_ I could deal with, I mean, you’re not the freak mom and dad always said you were, and I lived nearly a year with some of your lot and they weren’t that bad. Confusing, really, but not bad.”

“Then what is it?” Harry asks.

“I’m going to lose him! Mom always said her sister basically became a stranger after she went to your school and you essentially disappeared from our lives except for the holidays. I can’t — I can’t tell my wife we’re not going to see our son again!” Tears are gathering in Dudley’s eyes but he’s doing his best to keep them at bay. To distract himself, he pours himself another glass of scotch.

“Dudley,” Harry says putting a hand on his cousin’s shoulder trying to placate him, “you didn’t want me in your lives and I didn’t want to be in them either, it’s not gonna be the same with your son.”

“How can you know that?” Dudley sobs.

“Because you love Donnie and Donnie loves you. You are not going to lose him. Now, why don’t you leave the scotch alone and drink some tea instead? You don’t wanna be drunk when Jennifer comes home.”

Dudley lets Harry take the bottle and the glass from his hands and does his best to stop his lip from trembling.

“He won’t leave us behind?” Dudley asks meekly.

“My best friend is muggle-born, and she keeps in touch with her parents all the time. We all go to their house every summer and this year her parents even went with us to Tokyo,” Harry tells him, “you’re not going to lose your son unless you push him away.”

“I won’t, I swear. I won’t do the things dad did to try to make you normal. I just don’t get how did this even happen.”

“Surely there were signs, every magical child shows signs of magic from an early age. Hey, remember that time at the zoo?”

“When you set a snake on me?” Dudley asks, not at all reassured.

“I was trying to free a caged animal, I wasn’t thinking about you,” Harry laughs, “but anyways, things like that always happen with kids, there must have been something Donnie did.”

“Donnie says there were, but I swear I never noticed one.”

“Maybe there were signs that happened before your eyes, only you weren’t willing to acknowledge them or you tried to explain them away,” Harry suggests.

“I suppose,” Dudley mumbles, “I truly don’t know. And now Brittany swears she can make magic too, she is sure she’ll get a letter next year.”

“Well, we can’t know for sure until next year,” Harry says.

“She swears a friend of hers stole her Barbie doll but it somehow appeared inside her dollhouse later that day.”

“That could be magic,” Harry concedes, “you’ll know for sure when she gets her letter.”

“Then we’d be sending both our kids away,” Dudley says.

“You were planning on sending them to Smeltings anyways,” Harry points out.

“I suppose you’re right,” Dudley reluctantly agrees.

 

When Jennifer comes home with both Dursley kids in tow, Dudley is on his third cup of tea, which he keeps serving to keep himself from bringing out the scotch again. Harry can see Dudley’s children have grown up since the last time he saw them.

Donovan Dursley is a chubby kid, though nowhere near as obese as Dudley was when he was eleven. Harry can see the logo of UK Space Agency in the breast pocket of Donnie’s light blue polo shirt, as well as what looks like a remote control tucked inside his kaki shorts pocket, and he remembers Dudley mentioning his son’s passion for astronomy and robotics, as well as Albus referring to Donnie as a nerd. He supposes he can see why Al would say that, with Donnie’s bright intelligent eyes covered by oval-framed glasses and his sandy brown hair cut in a short bowl cut.

Meanwhile, Brittany Dursley looks exactly the opposite from her brother: her curly hair is perfectly styled and falls to the middle of her back and the red coat she’s wearing makes her look like an apparel kid model. Together, along with their mother wearing blue jeans and a pink tight jumper, the Dursleys are the picture of the perfect suburban happy family, Harry thinks, though maybe they look no different from him and Ginny and the kids except for the clothes they’re wearing. The Potters are a happy suburban magical family after all.

“Harry!” Jennifer greets, relief visible on her face, “so glad to see you.”

Meanwhile, the kids run to meet Harry and Donovan announces with a shout: “I am a wizard!”

“I know, I know,” Harry laughs, “your dad was just telling me.”

“And I am a witch,” Brittany states firmly.

“We don’t know that yet,” Dudley reminds her.

“I do,” is all Brittany has to say on the matter.

“Kids, why don’t you go upstairs and play some videogames for a bit while daddy and I talk to Harry?” Jennifer says.

“But —” Donovan begins to protest.

“You heard your mother,” Dudley cuts him off, “go upstairs.”

Visibly down about it, both Dursley kids head for the stairs and leave the adults alone in the living room.

“I am so glad you could come,” Jennifer tells Harry as she sits across from the couch where Harry and Dudley have seated, “we have like a million questions.”

“I’m happy to help,” Harry replies.

 

After a long and exhausting talk, during which Harry does his best to assuage Dudley and Jennifer’s worries, it is agreed he would take the Dursleys to a shopping trip the following Friday, where he continues giving answer to the numerous questions Dudley has about the wizarding world.

“Is it safe to buy them a broom?” Dudley asks after they’ve bought everything on Donnie’s shopping list.

“They can’t take brooms with them until they’re in their second year,” Harry replies.

“That wasn’t an answer,” Dudley points out with a hint of exasperation.

“I’m not gonna tell you accidents won’t happen, but it’s like riding a bike: you fall, you get up.”

“Because when you fall off a bike you do it fifty feet above ground,” Dudley deadpans and Harry does his best not to think about his own son, riding a professional racing broom as they speak.

“Look, worry about that next year, right now you should really invest in buying him a pet,” Harry says, desperate to change the topic.

“I suppose you’re gonna tell me to get him a dragon and that it’s like owning a puppy,” Dudley grunts.

“I was gonna suggest an owl, they can be useful to deliver post, but a dragon could do too,” Harry says in a tone so serious it takes Dudley a second to realise he’s joking.

“Lead the way,” he huffs at last.

The one upside of spending a weekend shopping with Dudley is that it takes Harry’s mind off his son being away, if only for a little while. It is not unamusing for him to see Dudley flip through the pages of _Magical Theory_ with an expression that would suggest he’s reading about rocket science, which Harry figures that for a muggle it must be. It’s also quite entertaining watching Dudley trying to convince his son there are other shops in the street apart from bookstore.

Donovan insists on a great horned owl with red eyes and feathers so dark it is almost black and names it Giansar.

“It looks like a small dragon, and Giansar is a star in the dragon constellation,” Donovan explains.

“He’s really into astronomy,” Dudley reminds Harry.

“You’re gonna love that class at Hogwarts,” Harry says.

“I can’t wait!” Donovan replies excitedly.

They visit Quality Quidditch Supplies, to quench the Dursley’s curiosity about the number one wizarding sport. The shopkeeper is an avid fan and is happy to explain to all four Dursleys the mechanics of the game, show them different models of balls and brooms and even gives them for free an issue of _Seeker Weekly_.

“I don’t know what to say,” Dudley tells him once they make a stop at Florean Fortescue’s after the shopping is done. Donovan and Brittany are at the counter with Jennifer sampling different flavours while Harry and Dudley watch them from a nearby table.

“I know it’s a lot to take in, it was for me,” Harry assures him.

“It’s not the magic bit, I’ve had nearly thirty years to get used to that. But, Harry, you can’t honestly tell me all this isn’t dangerous.”

“It looks that way because you’re not used to it.”

“I flipped through Donnie’s Potions book, it downright says your cauldron can blow up!”

“It’s like a muggle Chemistry class,” Harry defends.

“Without protection gear! And Quidditch, you can’t honestly tell me it’s just as risky as any muggle sport,” Dudley pleads.

“I played Quidditch when I was Donnie’s age, I was the youngest player in a hundred years.”

“That … is absurd,” Dudley says incredulous, “you sucked at sports.”

“I was pretty good at dodging things, I kinda owe you for that, you were pretty much my coach,” Harry jokes, but Dudley’s expression sours, “it’s a joke, come on.”

“I cannot believe you honestly send your three children to a school where it’s normal to hop on a broomstick and dodge cannonballs. It’s like you don’t even worry.” Now it’s Harry’s face turn to sour, he purses his lips and goes silent for so long it worries Dudley.

“What is it?” Dudley asks.

“I do worry. You — you don’t know —” Harry stammers.

“Harry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say you’re a careless dad, I —”

“My son Albus is in Sweden right now,” Harry says abruptly.

“In Sweden?” Dudley asks surprised.

“We went to Tokyo last month, for the Summer Olympics, because Al loves them. He met a wizard there that’s into broom racing. Which is about as dangerous as it sounds, it makes Quidditch look like a game of marbles, and my son decided he wanted to try it out. He’s at a summer camp for young talents right now, and even though I played Quidditch, even though I’ve done pretty dangerous things in my time, I can’t help thinking every five minutes of my son, on a racing broom in bloody Sweden.” Harry’s out of air by the time his rant is over. He can’t believe that out of all the possible people he could’ve vented with, Ginny, Ron, Hermione, hell, even Malfoy, who can relate to being continually perplexed by his son’s life choices, he ended up pouring his worries on his estranged cousin, who’s fallen silent and is staring at him open-mouthed.

“Your son,” Dudley says at last, “I’m sorry, you’re going to have to run that through me again, your son is doing what?”

“You see car racing? Well, it’s something like that but on a broom. It’s all very organised, there are professional teams, races all around the globe, and one of the top fliers in the world offered Albus a chance to attend his summer camp after he saw him fly. Ginny and I agreed and now I’m second-guessing that decision every passing second, even if Al’s already written to me saying he’s alright.”

“Wow,” Dudley says after letting out a long whistle, “and I thought sending Donnie to science camp was hard.”

“I know, right?” Harry laughs. “Look, I know what little you’ve seen of this world hasn’t exactly been its best side, but it’s not nearly as bad or dangerous as you think it is. This is going to be something good for Donnie.”

“It’s just … I know you keep saying I’m not going to lose him, but am I really only ever going to see him during the holidays? What if he gets in trouble or something? From what I gather, you were nearly killed over and over and dad was never notified, and he was supposed to be your legal guardian.”

Harry raises a sceptical eyebrow at that.

“I know, I know there’s not much good that would’ve made, but still,” Dudley says.

The first time Harry ever heard of a muggle stepping into Hogwarts was when he dove inside Tom Riddle’s diary when he was twelve years old. Inside Tom’s memory, he could see a young Tom Riddle tell Hagrid that Moaning Myrtle’s muggle parents would be arriving at Hogwarts to pick up her dead body. Luckily for Harry, he can think of a happier example to assuage his cousin’s worries.

“Hogwarts is protected by spells that make it look like an old ruined castle if a muggle ever bumps into it. But like the entrance to Diagon Alley, muggles can see it if they’re pointed to it by a wizard. My friend Hermione’s parents could go to see her graduate,” Harry explains, “if you ever need to see Donnie, you’ll be able to.”

Dudley nods silently at that. Harry is sure his cousin is pondering whether he really wants to see Hogwarts for himself or not.

“I don’t really have a choice, do I?” Dudley asks, “I mean, a wand just chose my son. That sounds pretty definite.”

“That’s because it is,” Harry responds with a good-natured laugh, “your son is a wizard. All you can do is do your best to make sure he is a happy one.”

 

Harry says farewell to the Dursleys, not before giving them precise instructions to cross the barrier at King’s Cross station, and assures them they’ll be seeing each other on September first. On the 30th of August, Harry is back at the Stora Sjöfallet National Park to pick up Albus. His son runs to him and traps him in a bone-crushing hug and then proceeds to detail every single thing he did the two previous weeks, his mouth running a mile a minute and all but jumping up and down as he talks. He tells him all about the race he competed in, which he didn’t win but was told he had a lot of talent, making him eager to do even better the following year.

Once they’re all home Harry and Ginny talk to their children about Donovan Dursley attending Hogwarts, and ask them all to keep an eye on their cousin and take care of him. None of them can believe the kids they’ve been so careful not to reveal they’re wizards to are actually magical, but they all agree to look out for Donovan.

When Harry and Ginny take their three children to King’s Cross the following morning, Albus darts towards Scorpius the second he spots the Malfoys and the two boys greet each other in a hug that doesn’t end until James tells them they’re blocking the way to the train.

“I take it summer camp went well,” Draco says.

“He loved it,” Harry agrees, “how was Tuscany?”

“Lovely place,” Draco replies, “and Scorpius had a lot of fun.”

“Glad to hear,” says with a smile. At that moment a family crosses the barrier and Harry sees it’s Dudley with his wife and kids, all four looking around the station in frank amazement. The second he spots Harry, Dudley lets out a relieved sigh and waves towards him.

“Even muggles know who you are now?” Draco asks as he sees the foursome approach them.

“He’s my cousin,” Harry explains, making Draco’s right eyebrow raise in surprise.

“Hello,” Dudley says when they reach Harry and Malfoy.

“Hi there,” Harry greets, “you made it okay?”

“Yes, yes. We almost didn’t believe you could go through the wall without crashing, but then we saw a family do it and said ‘why not?’” Dudley answers, “oh, I’m Dudley Dursley, by the way,” he adds offering his hand to Draco, “and this is my wife Jennifer and my children Donovan and Brittany.”

“Draco Malfoy,” Draco replies taking Dudley’s hand with a perplexed expression, “and this is my wife Astoria”. Harry realises this must be one of the very few times Draco’s ever interacted with a muggle and tries his best not to let his amusement show.

“Ready to go to Hogwarts, Donovan?” Harry asks instead.

“Everything looks so cool!” Donovan says.

“I’m glad you think that way,” Harry tells him before turning to his son, “Al, why don’t you help Donovan get settled?”

“Sure,” Albus agrees, “oh, this is Scorpius, by the way, my best mate. Score, this is my cousin Donovan.”

“Nice to meet you,” Scorpius greets politely.

“Come on, let’s get your stuff inside,” Albus says.

“I’ll be right back,” Donovan says to his parents before following Albus and Scorpius.

“Oh, mom, can I go too?” Brittany asks her mother.

“You’re not old enough, sweetie, but next year maybe you will,” her mother responds with a tight smile, which indicates she isn’t really counting the days. Brittany looks upset, but doesn’t insist.

The kids come back out of the train so they can say goodbye to their parents before the whistle blows announcing the Hogwarts Express’ imminent departure. As the train leaves, Harry puts a reassuring hand on his troubled-looking cousin’s shoulder and they all watch scarlet machine take their children with it.

They do some small talk for a while before all families go their separate ways, and Harry realises he just had a polite chat with Malfoy _and_ Dudley, with none of the kids around to act as a buffer. He feels oddly proud of himself.

 

With the kids at Hogwarts life goes on as usual. It’s the second year all of Harry’s children are gone and he’s almost getting used to the empty house. Almost. He tries to distract himself with work and he and Ginny rediscover the joys of having the house to themselves.

A few weeks into the school year, an owl from Professor John Dawlish reaches him at the Ministry. Every year, Harry helps out the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher with lectures about topics he’s knowledgeable about, like the Disarming Charm or producing a corporeal Patronus. And now it’s time for a practical lesson with the fourth-years, which makes him smile, ‘cause he always loves giving a lecture in a class where his kids are in, so Harry scribbles a quick reply assuring Dawlish he’ll be there as usual.

Harry shows up at Hogwarts on a Tuesday morning for a first period lesson with the Slytherins. He finds his son sitting between his cousin Louis and Scorpius, and the first thing he notices is he doesn’t look embarrassed to have his father showing up like he did two years before.

“Good morning, everyone,” Dawlish greets, “today Head Auror Harry Potter was kind enough to take some time off of his busy schedule to help us with a practical class about Unforgivable Curses. We’ve been reading about them for the past few days and now it’s time for a lesson a bit more practical.”

“As you probably know from the multiple chronicles out there about the Second Wizarding War,” Harry begins, “the year before Voldemort’s second rise to power a Death Eater infiltrated this school and took a position as the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher disguising himself as a renowned Auror of the time. During that time, one thing he taught fourth-years was how to fight the Imperius Curse.”

A generalised murmur runs through the class at Harry’s words, so he waits for it to die down before continuing.

“As you may also know, during the War we had a Minister for Magic that was during his entire time at the office under the Imperius Curse, essentially making Voldemort himself the actual Minister.”

One thing Harry’s noticed over the years he’s been coming back to Hogwarts is how the general shudder at Voldemort’s name seems to disappear more and more with every generation. There’s some awkward shifting from some students, but the reaction is nothing like what people did when he was eleven. He’s happy to see Albus, Louis and Scorpius barely blinked at the sound of the name.

“Which is why both the Minister and Headmistress McGonagall agreed that while the idea might have come from a Death Eater posing as a member of the teaching staff, it would do some good to teach kids how to fight the Imperius Curse, which is the only Unforgivable Curse you can actually break, so something like what happened at the Ministry during the war never happens again.”

“As Mr. Potter is very good at resisting the Imperius Curse, he’s going to give you some pointers on how to do it,” Dawlish intervenes.

“So you’re going to teach us how to cast the Curse?” a dark-haired girl asks.

“Of course not, Miss Vane,” Dawlish says gravely, “Mr. Potter and I will be casting it non-verbally and you will do your best to resist it, using Mr. Potter’s guidance as well as the essay on the subject I expect all of you to have written for today’s class.”

The girl actually looks disappointed, Harry notices, and chuckles to himself before launching on an explanation on how to fight the Imperius Curse. Though the first time he was subjected to the curse, back when he was fourteen, he managed to break out of it by pure instinct, during his Auror training Harry asked Ron to use it on him so he could really master resisting the will-controlling spell, and after doing so he managed to convince the Head of the Auror Office to include this skill in the training aspiring Aurors received.

After he’s done explaining, Professor Dawlish pushes all chairs and tables to the walls of the classroom and calls the students one by one so they can practice.

Even though he’s done this several times before, it’s always odd for Harry to watch Dawlish do a repeat of that lesson with Barty Crouch Jr. all those years ago: the professor asks some of the kids to sing a song, imitate an animal or perform some jumps across the room. Scorpius hops around the room on one foot, Louis is asked to demonstrate the French his mother taught him and recounts what he did over the weekend, though nobody really gets a word. When it’s Albus’ turn, Dawlish asks him to leave the classroom and close the door behind him. But he doesn’t.

Harry can’t say he doesn’t want to whoop and cheer when he sees his son calmly walking to the classroom door and stopping abruptly before crossing the threshold. His legs start shaking, like they’re trying to walk on their own but Albus is holding them back. His fingers twitch and he’s about to take a step further but he suddenly screams, “NO!”

Albus does a full 360-degree spin and the hand that was meant to grab the door knob closes into a fist, which lands squarely on Scorpius’ jaw, who had sat next to the door after his turn was over.

The impact of his knuckles on his friend’s face seems to pull Albus out of the curse-induced trance. He blinks a few times and once he realises what happened he rushes to get a hold of Scorpius’ face, who is covering himself with his hands and groaning in pain.

“Score! Score! Are you alright? I’m sorry, shite, I didn’t mean to …” he stops abruptly when he realises he just swore in front of his father and his teacher and the rest of the class, that burst into giggles when he bites his tongue to stop another swearword from coming out. If he wasn’t worried about Scorpius, Harry would’ve found the whole thing hilarious.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” Scorpius says at last, but it doesn’t seem to settle Albus.

“I busted your lip,” he says, “I’m so sorry.”

“Mr. Weasley, please be so kind to escort Mr. Malfoy to the hospital wing,” Dawlish asks addressing Louis, “Mr. Potter, I’m gonna ask you to stay and recount your experience fighting the Imperius Curse.”

Albus seems reluctant to let his friend go, even when Scorpius bats his hand away.

“I’m fine, seriously,” he says.

“Mr. Malfoy, please let Madam Longbottom take a look at you,” Dawlish insists and Scorpius huffs but finally agrees to go with Louis.

“I’m sorry, Score,” Albus says, still clearly distressed.

“Don’t worry about it, really,” Scorpius assures him before leaving.

Albus explains to the class what it was like fighting the Imperius Curse, but Harry can tell his mind is elsewhere. It’s also not a surprise when he bolts out of the classroom the second the class is over.

“Close friendship those two have,” Dawlish says to Harry once everyone else leaves.

“You have no idea,” Harry agrees.

“What is it with Potters and the Imperius Curse? Are you like naturally immune to it or what?” Dawlish comments.

“I seem to recall James having trouble with this particular lesson,” Harry points out.

“I’m just saying, there’s a reason everyone compares Albus to you,” Dawlish says.

“Does it bother him much?” Harry asks, genuinely curious.

“Not so much now, he’s growing into his own person, and people have learned to see him as Albus Potter, not Harry Potter’s son.”

“I’m happy to hear that,” Harry says with a smile.

“It’s a good thing,” Dawlish agrees.

“I better go check on him, make sure he’s letting Hannah do her job,” Harry says, making Dawlish chuckle.

“You go ahead. Glad to have you here, as always.”

 

Harry doesn’t make it to the hospital wing, because he finds his son and Scorpius hanging out in a deserted corridor. He figures a busted lip is something Hannah Longbottom can probably fix in the blink of an eye and she sent Scorpius on his way after that. Now he sees Scorpius leaning on the wall while Albus cradles his face with an overly concerned look.

“Seriously, Al, I’m fine,” Harry overhears Scorpius say.

“I’m just really sorry I hit you,” Albus replies apologetically.

“It’s nothing, really, and we should be talking about the fact that you broke out of the effects of the Imperius Curse. How cool is that?”

“I — I really don’t know how I did it,” Albus stammers, “one second I was walking towards the door, happily knowing it was what was asked from me, and the next a voice in my head is all ‘but why? Why are you leaving?’, and the next thing I know, my fist is on your face.”

“You were the only one who could do it,” Scorpius points out.

“Well, I’m just awesome like that,” Albus brags smugly, earning himself a half-hearted punch on the arm from Scorpius.

“We should go, we’ve got Herbology and I can’t wait to tell Rose how you punched me in the face.”

“Shut up!” Albus says laughing, as both friends make their way to the greenhouses, Albus slinging his arm around Scorpius’ shoulders.

As he watches them leave, Harry can’t help but stare in wonder at the affection Albus shows Scorpius. Just like during the Olympics, he’s left with the nagging feeling that there’s something he’s not seeing, but he can’t pinpoint exactly what it is.

 

Harry doesn’t go back to Hogwarts until Quidditch season begins in November. This year is a very exciting one for his family as there were major changes in the line-ups of all Houses. Fred graduated the year before and his sister Roxanne was appointed Captain of the Gryffindor team, and so was Dominique in Ravenclaw. Meanwhile, Hugo made it as reserve Beater at Hufflepuff, and of course his son can’t stop talking about Scorpius being Slytherin’s Captain. He also knows that, depending on how the season goes, once Roxanne graduates at the end of the school year James has a strong chance of becoming the next Captain for Gryffindor.

When he arrives for the opening game of the season, the classic Gryffindor versus Slytherin match, he’s met with the surprising news that a failed exercise during a N.E.W.T. level Charms lesson resulted in the demolition of half the stands in the Quidditch pitch, meaning the audience for the game will have to squeeze in the remaining half, making for a pretty bizarre sight of supporters of both Houses mixed together, the green and red colours making it look like Christmas arrived early this year.

Harry finds an empty space near a row of reserved seats. He discovers his mistake when Albus, Louis arrive followed by the Malfoys, all proudly dressed in green and silver, and sit next to him making him realise he will be the only one cheering for Gryffindor in the entire row. Malfoy seems to realise this as well and throws Harry a mocking smirk, though a good-natured one. Albus, for his part, is much less subtle when he giggles and pats his dad on the back.

“Oh, poor dad,” he says, “a lion all alone with the snakes.”

“Poor me. I’m still cheering for my House, though,” Harry replies.

“You do that, they’re gonna need the moral support,” Albus tells him, making his father snort before turning his attention to the pitch where Professor Spinnet is blowing her whistle to mark the start of the game.

It is not a good day for Slytherin. Scorpius Malfoy’s debut as a team captain is marred by eight goals he receives during the first thirty minutes of the game, which is more than all the goals he received during his first season as a Keeper in his second year. It doesn’t help that his two Beaters, one Chaser and both starting and reserve Seeker graduated the year before, leaving Slytherin with only three of their starting players from the previous season: Chasers Tamara Pembrock and Andrew Dunbar, and Scorpius himself; all three of them fourth-years.

Meanwhile, Gryffindor has only failed to stop the Quaffle from going through their goalposts twice, and is gaining momentum with every passing minute.

Scorpius in particular, seems to be completely off his game. Harry’s seen him go through matches without getting a single shot past him, but this time he’s made very few saves. Probably the pressure of being team captain and having a team mostly formed by rookies, Harry figures. He remembers he had a hard time assembling a new team the sole year he served as captain for Gryffindor.

There’s a moment mid-game when Slytherin seems to get a bit of momentum going. Tamara Pembrock and Andrew Dunbar, as well as Irving Bletchley, a sixth-year Chaser who only managed to move up to the starting line this year, manage to keep possession of the Quaffle for the longest they’ve been able to so far, even managing to score twice. During that time, Scorpius nerves seem to dissipate a bit, enough for him to block several shots aimed at his goalposts.

On the stands Albus and Louis clap hysterically whenever Scorpius manages to stop a Quaffle, Albus jumping up and down his seat and howling cheers at his friend. Draco and Astoria whoop too, albeit, in a much composed manner.

A particular forceful shot thrown by Jane Caruso from Gryffindor catches Scorpius by surprise when he’s blocking the leftmost goalpost and he must launch himself all the way to the opposite hoop, which he does by holding onto his broom with both legs and stretching his arms all he can as he lurches across the goalposts, barely managing to stop the ball from going through one of them.

“Yes! Yes! He did it!” Albus screams as he shakes his cousin, who is also roaring in delight. Next to him Astoria is whistling now with two fingers in her mouth and Draco is clapping as loudly as he can, all pretence of composure now forgotten.

“That was football move! That’s how he learnt to do that!” Albus tells Draco excitedly, who raises an impressed eyebrow.

“Is that so?” he asks, “he did good.”

“He was brilliant!” Albus agrees.

Slytherin’s fortunate streak is short-lived, though, as Gryffindor scores on them again. Slytherin’s new Beaters don’t hold a candle to Roxanne and her partner, and the Slytherin Chasers struggle to get the Quaffle back in their hands. From the stands Scorpius’ distress is visible, he’s screaming left and right, and even switches one of the second-year Beaters with his equally young reserve, without it making much difference.

Harry sees his son is now beyond himself with hysteria, maniacally screaming and bouncing on his seat, cheering euphorically when Scorpius stops the Quaffle once more time. Harry barely notices when Professor Spinnet blows her whistle, signalling the end of the game. James managed to catch the Snitch and he missed it watching his younger son go insane at the stands.

The result is a discouraging start of the season for the Slytherins: two hundred and forty to forty, which means they’ll be desperate for a win the following year. Even more disheartening for Harry is watching the dejected faces of in everyone in his row. Louis looks disappointed and the Malfoys are clearly sad, but Albus looks downright crushed.

“This was Scorpius’ first game as captain,” he tells his dad.

“The first match is always a tough one, but don’t worry, I’m sure he’ll get a hang of it,” Harry tries to console his son.

“I suppose,” Albus mumbles, still crestfallen.

It’s normal, Harry thinks, to be upset over a Quidditch game, he remembers how passionate he used to be when he was a player, but he racks his brains trying to remember if Albus had been this upset when Gryffindor beat Slytherin the year before, because today’s passion at the stands seemed entirely new to Harry. Maybe his son got even more competitive over the summer after spending two weeks with the Stockholm Storm Petrels, Harry figures, but still, he’s once more time left with the feeling he’s missing something.

 

Harry’s next visit to Hogwarts turns out to be a very pleasant one, as he drops by a second-year Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson to talk about the Disarming Charm and his daughter Lily is sitting front and centre with a huge smile on her face. Out of all three of Harry’s children, it’s Lily Potter who inherited Harry’s natural talent for the subject. She was top of that class in her first year and is well on her way to be the very best once again. Unlike her brother Albus, she gets a hang of the Disarming Charm on her first try, and unlike her brother James, she doesn’t have to try too hard to be good at defensive magic.

“That’s a future Auror, right there,” Professor Dawlish tells Harry after Lily says goodbye to her dad once the class is over.

“Oh, please don’t,” Harry pleads, “it’s enough having to worry about one of my kids putting himself in the line of fire, I don’t think I could handle two.”

“Oh, yes, James began N.E.W.T. level lessons this year,” Dawlish remembers.

“How’s it going for him?” Harry asks.

“Oh, you know, he’s not a natural like Lily, but he works hard. Non-verbal spells seem to be a struggle, though.”

“That he gets from me,” Harry laughs, “I didn’t master non-verbal spells until I was in Auror training.”

“There’s still hope for him then,” Dawlish jokes.

They make small talk for a while longer, until it’s time for Harry to leave, and he does so with a smile on his face, which is the case nearly every time he gives a lecture in a class one of his kids is in.

“Excuse me, Mr. Potter,” a voice calls behind him as he walks down one of the castle’s halls and Harry turns to see Scorpius Malfoy approaching him from the other end of the corridor.

“Hello, there, Scorpius. How’s it going?” he greets.

“I’m doing great, thank you. I just wanted to give you this,” Scorpius says as he holds out a square plastic box that guards a flat disc inside.

“Is that …?”

“A DVD,” Scorpius confirms, “Al and I had some free periods and we dropped by some of Donnie’s classes, so he can send some videos to his dad. Al said he was worried about how dangerous Hogwarts really is and we figured he’d be happy to see his son’s first flying lesson.”

“Wow, that’s a very nice gesture, I’ll make sure to give it to him. But wait, how did you get one of these?” Harry asks.

“Al brought his laptop with him this year, he’s been teaching me how to use it,” Scorpius replies.

“How did you manage to get it to work?” Harry asks impressed.

“We use it at the Room of Requirement,” Scorpius explains, “you can ask for a room that blocks all the magic from the outside but you where you can still use magic on the inside.”

“Impressive,” Harry concedes.

“So, would you give it to Donnie’s dad?” Scorpius asks, “and don’t worry, Professor Flitwick charmed it with a super complicated spell that allows the contents to be seen only by people who know about magic. He says he’d only used it on books before, but he’s confident it’ll work on a DVD.”

“Of course, Scorpius, I’ll make sure Donnie’s dad gets it,” Harry assures Scorpius.

“Thank you, Mr. Potter,” Scorpius says before trotting away.

 

Dudley Dursley is impressed Harry knows how to set up a DVD player when the latter drops by his house to show him Albus and Scorpius’ present.

“I grew up in this world, Dudley,” Harry reminds him, “and my house does have electricity.”

Dudley plops down on the couch as Harry places the DVD on the tray.

“I just hope I don’t get a heart attack like dad almost did every day during that year we spent in hiding,” he sighs.

“You survived Diagon Alley, you can survive a home movie,” Harry replies as he takes a seat next to his cousin and presses play on the remote.

The screen shows Hogwarts’ grounds on one side of the castle, where Flying lessons usually take place. A group of kids can be seen further away, standing next to several brooms scattered on the grass.

“Am I holding this right?” A voice Harry doesn’t recognise asks.

“Yes, thank you, Jackson,” he hears Albus say before his son appears on the screen next to Scorpius.

“Hi! I’m Albus Potter and this is my best mate Scorpius Malfoy,” Albus says.

“Hello!” Scorpius greets.

“And we are here to record the adventures of Donovan Dursley for posterity. Today’s episode: Donnie’s first Flying lesson!” Albus says.

“Alright, you two take it from here,” the boy holding the camera says, “Gryffindors don’t have a free period and I’ve got to get to class.”

“It’s History of Magic,” Albus says to the camera, “which is pointless and taught by a ghost.”

“It’s gotten better lately,” Scorpius defends.

“Plus, Gryffindors share that class with the Ravenclaws,” Albus adds wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, which earns him an elbow to the ribs from Scorpius, “ouch!”

“Alright, I’m off,” Jackson says, handing the camcorder to Albus, who points it back at the other boy.

“Thank you, Jackson,” Harry hears Scorpius say as Jackson walks away.

“And if you want a spoiler,” Albus says off-screen as the camcorder follows Jackson making his way towards the castle, “that guy over there is future Mr. — ouch!”

“We’ve gone off topic,” Scorpius says, “and Professor Spinnet has arrived.”

The camera does a 180-degree turn to show Professor Alicia Spinnet, Harry’s former Quidditch teammate from his time at Hogwarts, calling students and beckoning them to gather around her.

“They’re really going to fly on those brooms,” Dudley says, still incredulous.

“They really are,” Harry confirms.

Professor Spinnet gives a small explanation to the first years about what they’re about to do, at times turning to look at the camera, seemingly unsure of whether to find Albus and Scorpius’ antics annoying or endearing.

Kids with previous flying experience are the firsts to call the brooms before them with a firm “up!”. Dudley gasps when the broomsticks immediately jump the feet that separates the ground from the student’s hands. The kids hop on them and take off, fly around for a bit until Professor Spinnet calls them back on the ground.

First-timers are next, and the camera zooms on Donovan Dursley’s face, who looks nervous but determined.

“Up!” he says; the broom is in his grasp in an instant.

Dudley gasps, evidently surprised, but Harry finds in his cousin’s eyes something that looks a lot like pride. He looks decidedly more nervous than his son when the boy hops on the broom and gives the initial kick to take off, and he audibly gasps again when Donovan is finally in the air.

Donovan gives a few tentative turns on his broom, his apprehension clearly visible on the screen, but after a while it fades away and his face lights up in wonder at the realisation that he’s actually flying.

“H — he’s — he’s flying!” Dudley exclaims with a breaking voice, “Harry, he’s flying!”

“He really is, Dudley, he really is,” Harry says.

After all kids dismount from their brooms, Professor Spinnet turns to the camera and beckons Albus to approach her.

“Mr. Potter here just spent the summer at a broom racing camp in Sweden,” she says, to the class’ amazement, “perhaps you could offer us a demonstration.”

The camcorder is handed to Scorpius and Albus is on the screen a second after, heading eagerly to one of the brooms lying on the ground.

Harry witnesses as his son demonstrates his skills. He flies around, he does a few loop-the-loops and soars up to finish with a vertical dive that he manages to brake inches before hitting the ground, which is received with a round of applause from the first-years gathered around him.

“You let your son do that?!” Dudley asks horrified and Harry is too shocked to reply. He knew full well his son had essentially been practising an extreme sport, even by wizard standards, but watching his son on a freefall rendered him speechless. Meanwhile, Scorpius’ scoff is heard.

“You think you’re all that, huh?” he asks before casting a Hover Charm on the camcorder and running to the nearest broom.

Scorpius flies around for a bit before holding firmly onto the broom and letting go of it with one hand and one leg a second later, his body stretching alongside the broom.

With only one hand and one foot holding the shaft, and the rest of his body hanging below the broom, Scorpius begins an ascent which stops until he’s reached the height a goalpost would have. After he descends, among a second round of applause, Professor Spinnet addresses the class.

“That was the Starfish and Stick, a Quidditch tactic used by Keepers to protect the goalposts, which shouldn’t be attempted by fourteen-year-olds,” she admonishes.

“Zabini made me master it last year,” Scorpius shrugs, making Albus snort.

“You’re all mental,” Dudley wheezes, his eyes wide as plates, “mental.”

“My son is into extreme sports, which is terrifying, don’t think it’s not. You should’ve seen his face when he saw the BMX at the Olympics. If we were all muggle, he’d be going for crazy stuff too. It doesn’t mean Donnie will be into that,” Harry tries to placate.

But it’s too much for Dudley, who excuses himself and heads for the kitchen to get a glass of water and gather his thoughts. Harry figures it’s probably a bit of a cultural shock he’s experiencing and it’s probably best to let him be, so he turns his attention back to the telly. The screen is now showing Donnie’s class freely flying around under Professor Spinnet’s supervision, Albus and Scorpius joining them. The camcorder must be still under the effects of the Hover Charm, as it follows the pair in the air as they goof around on their brooms. At one moment, when they’re not three feet above ground, Albus makes a sharp turn and playfully clashes onto Scorpius, making both boys fall to the ground and roll around in the grass, laughing. Professor Spinnet’s voice can be heard off-screen, telling them to quit the roughhousing. Albus and Scorpius snicker quietly, trying and failing to regain composure. It doesn’t last long as Albus grabs Scorpius ankle when his friend tries to stand up, making him fall again. They burst out laughing once more, and that’s when Harry sees it: as both boys pant for air and giggle, Albus turns to look at Scorpius with such profound and evident affection, that Harry can’t not see it anymore.

It all comes flooding back to him in an instant, Albus and Scorpius’ playful banter at the Olympics, the worry in his son’s face after he accidentally hit Scorpius, the raw sentiment behind the cheers at the Quidditch game against Gryffindor, and now this unmistakable endearment palpable on his face when he looks at his friend. He’s often compared Albus and Scorpius’ friendship with the one he and Ron have had since their first year at Hogwarts, but now he wonders if he’s staring at something else entirely. Could his son have feelings for his best mate that go beyond friendship?

“Harry? Harry, are you okay?” he barely hears Dudley ask. He didn’t even notice when his cousin came back from the kitchen.

“Harry?”

 

The question of whether his son could possibly have feelings for his best friend haunts Harry all the way to Christmas break. His mind is in a constant loop of the same questions: does his son fancy boys? Does he mind if he does? Is he in love with Scorpius? Will they start dating? He’s not even sure if his son fancies boys in the first place. Does he?

One night, during one of Kreacher increasingly frequent days off, and they should really start thinking of approaching the topic of retirement to the elf even if that would send him on a massive freak-out, Harry silently places the dirty dishes from dinner inside the dishwasher, his mind still trapped in the never-ending cycle of questions, while Ginny loads the washing machine next to him, completely oblivious to Harry’s inner turmoil.

“Hey, hon,” he says at last after taking a seat on the kitchen table, as his wife points her wand at the dirty laundry, silently directing it to the washing machine.

“Yes, dear,” she answers distractedly.

“Do you think it’s possible …” for a second Harry hesitates if it’s a good idea to voice his suspicions, maybe he’s wrong and he’s just making a storm in a teacup. But then again, if he doesn’t talk to somebody he might implode. “Do you think it’s possible Al may be … I mean, that he might be into boys?” There, he said it. Ginny’s stance doesn’t change at all.

“What gave it away?” she asks softly with the faintest hint of amusement, not pausing for one second the task she’s performing.

“What do you mean?” At that, Ginny stops waving her wand and turns around to give her husband a soft smile.

“You knew?!” Harry asks in shock.

“Honey,” Ginny says, as she starts the washing machine with a flick of her wand and heads to the kitchen table to take a seat next to Harry, “do you really think that _Gods of Quidditch_ calendar he bought was for charity?”

“All profits were to buy new Quidditch equipment to low-resources children around the world!” Harry defends, believing his wife means Albus got scammed.

“It also features Gonçalo Flores covering his privates with a Quaffle,” Ginny says very gently, like one would do when explaining a complex concept to a five-year-old.

“Oh,” Harry says, “ _oh_!” Understanding finally dawning on him. Ginny just chuckles.

“Don’t mock me,” he protests, only to make Ginny laugh harder.

“Alright, alright. Do you think he fancies Scorpius?” That seems to sober Ginny up.

“I’ve … wondered the same thing sometimes.”

“I mean, they’re close, but then again, so were Ron and I at that age.”

“But you didn’t stare longingly at Ron, or we wouldn’t be sitting here in this kitchen.”

“Fair point,” Harry concedes with a chuckle, “do you think Scorpius fancies him?”

“Hard to tell. That boy’s not the open book Albus is, but he’s not our son, so, who knows?”

“Do you suppose I should talk to him?” Harry asks.

“Don’t you dare!” Ginny warns him, “let him tell us on his own terms.”

“Maybe he doesn’t know how,” Harry protests, “we should let him know he can tell us anything.”

“He already knows that, and you telling him ‘hey, we know you’re into blokes’ won’t make him feel any more secure.”

“I wasn’t planning on approaching the subject _that_ way.”

“You better not,” Ginny says, and her tone is final.

 

Still, a few days into the break, Harry can’t stop himself from showing up at his son’s bedroom.

“Hey, champ, can I come in?” he asks from his son’s doorframe.

“Sure, dad, what’s up?” Al asks with a grin from where he’s sitting by his desk. He’s got _The Monster Book of Monsters_ open on his lap and Harry is surprised to find the book purring in peaceful contentment as Albus’ finger idly traces the line he was reading.

“I just wanted to drop by, see how my son’s been doing. How’s school? Lots of homework for the break?” he asks as he pulls a chair to seat next to his son.

“Tons, it’s like all teachers ganged up on us. Right now I’m working on an essay on salamanders for Hagrid,” Albus answers, holding his book up for his dad to see.

“That book used to bite me a lot when I took that class,” Harry recalls.

“It just wants to be read,” Albus shrugs as he strokes the pages gently, as if he were petting a small animal, the book purrs again in delight, “if you show you don’t fear it and read a couple of pages every once in a while, it becomes very friendly. It even opens in the pages you need to do your homework.”

“Good to know,” Harry says, still surprised at watching that book sit comfortably on his son’s lap. “So how’s everything else? How are your friends?”

“Score is on vacation in Prague, maybe he’ll spend Christmas there. He says his parents have no intention of hosting a Christmas dinner this year, after his grandfather’s temper tantrum over Scorpius interest in muggle technology last year.” Albus tells him and Harry chuckles and cringes.

“Poor Scorpius. Have things gotten better for him at school?” Harry asks.

“The howlers have stopped, you can thank McGonagall for that. Some idiots still think it’s okay to call him and other Slytherins Death Eaters, but it’s less often now that it was at the beginning.”

“Kids can be cruel sometimes,” Harry says.

“Now it’s mostly a bunch of tossers that haven’t grown up since first year: Jonathan Smith from Hufflepuff, Tyler Langdon from Gryffindor, though Tyler mostly just glares angrily. Ever since Score kicked his ass in Duel Club he doesn’t dare to approach him. Some Gryffindor, huh?”

Smith. If the kid is Zacharias Smith’s son, Harry can see prejudice runs in the family. He looks at his son and is proud to see his family isn’t repeating any destructive patterns, and neither are the Malfoys.

“You should invite Scorpius for Christmas dinner, and his parents too. If they decide not to stay in Prague, that is,” Harry says. He knows Molly’s been wanting to extend an invitation to the Malfoys for a while now, specially after their joint holiday in Japan, and if the Malfoys aren’t hosting a Christmas dinner this year, it seems like the perfect opportunity.

“I’ll be sure to tell him,” Albus promises and silence falls upon them.

“Have you heard from Donnie?” Harry asks after a while.

“He’s doing alright. He’s a nerd, so Ravenclaw suits him just fine. No interest in Quidditch whatsoever, so uncle Dudley shouldn’t be too worried. I don’t see him much, but the Scamander twins say he’s cool.”

“Glad to hear he’s settling in alright,” says Harry, “so, any other friends?”

“Rose is doing great, so is Louis, but you already know that. I mostly stick with them and Score. My other roommates, Nate and Andrew, are back at their homes for the holidays as well, Jackson is somewhere in San Francisco.”

“I see,” Harry says as he sits back on the chair and peacefully contemplates his son returning his attention to his essay on salamanders. After a while he stares at the Gonçalo Flores poster on the wall in front of him. The brown-skinned Chaser is swirling on his broom holding a Quaffle with one hand, a bright grin on his face. Harry supposes the man could be called handsome, and he certainly looks fit enough, Harry can see well defined shoulders under the green robes and thick muscular forearms peeking out of the sleeves.

“He’s a great Chaser, isn’t he?” Harry asks.

“He is,” Albus answers without looking up from the parchment, in a tone that leaves no room for discussion. Harry just nods as he looks around. Every single wall has at least one poster of the Brazilian player on it, and the closet door has a cutting from a Quidditch magazine featuring Flores in broad swimming trunks in what looks like a summer edition feature.

“What ever happened to that charity calendar you bought?”

“Hum?” his son asks distractedly, “oh, must be in one of the drawers, I guess, don’t really remember.”

Harry nods silently.

“It was a nice thing the Brazilian team did, making that calendar.”

“Yeah, it was,” Albus answers distractedly, busying himself transcribing a passage from _The Monster Book of Monsters_.

“I bet it was a hit with the ladies, even if they weren’t Quidditch fans.”

“I guess,” Albus shrugs.

“Maybe even some boys.”

“Probably,” his son concedes.

After a moment of silence Harry tries again.

“So, tell me more about school, what was that thing Scorpius said about History of Magic getting better?”

“Oh, Binns somehow remembered he has an audience when he talks. He asks us questions and makes us debate, sometimes even hands out House points. Jackson says it’s Rose’s doing, but I can’t be sure.”

“Is that so?” Harry asks amused, “I can’t imagine.”

“It was weird for me the first time too,” Albus agrees.

“What about your other classes?” Harry asks.

“Nothing new. Scorpius is still the best in Charms, Rose is still the best in everything else. I’m getting better at Transfigurations and Potions, or better than Score, at least,” Albus says.

“Is that so?” Harry asks.

“Score is only good at the classes he likes. Aside from conjuring, he doesn’t really like Transfig, and he seriously doesn’t like Potions, so the tougher the lessons get, the more he struggles,” Albus explains.

“I was like that,” Harry says, “I excelled at Defence Against the Dark Arts, ask me if I remember anything I learnt in History of Magic.”

“Can’t fault you there,” Albus replies and once again silence takes over the room, the only sound being Albus’ quill gliding on the parchment. Harry racks his brain to come up with something to keep the conversation going.

“What else is new? Any girls catching your interest?” he asks at last.

“Not really,” Albus shrugs, still not taking his eyes from the parchment.

“Any boys?” Harry asks, trying to make it sound like a joke, but probably missing by about a hundred miles.

“No boys,” Albus says in a half-puzzled, half-amazed tone, but shrugs it off like he’s filing it under his dad’s lame attempts at being funny.

“You know, your uncle Dudley nearly had a heart attack when he saw you and Scorpius show off with the brooms,” Harry says, changing the topic again. Albus snorts.

“Uncle Dudley? Or you?” he asks, tearing his eyes from the parchment to throw Harry a teasing glance. Harry just laughs.

“Maybe I did have a mini heart attack, a tiny one, you know?”

“Yeah, I figured,” Albus says.

“You’re really talented on the broom, I’m glad you found something that makes you happy,” Harry tells him.

“Thank you, dad. I know it scares the hell out of you and mom, so it means a lot to me that you let me do it,” Albus replies, his emerald eyes staring right at Harry wide and earnest.

“Maybe we’re a family of adrenaline junkies,” Harry jokes.

“ _Maybe_?” Albus asks sarcastically, making Harry laugh.

“Yeah, you’re right, no maybe about that,” he recognises. “Anyway, I should go to bed,” he adds as he leaves his chair, “don’t stay up to late with that essay.”

“I won’t, I’m almost done,” Albus says.

“Alright,” Harry says as he heads to leave, but stops when he reaches the threshold, “hey, Al.”

“Yeah?”

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” Harry asks.

“Of course, dad,” Albus answers, slightly puzzled.

“Alright, goodnight.”

“Goodnight, dad,” Albus replies and Harry leaves the room at last.

 

“Do you think it’s possible he doesn’t know?” Harry asks when he climbs into bed to join Ginny later that night, “that he might be into boys, I mean.”

“Well, he _is_ a Potter,” Ginny points out teasingly.

“Oh, shut up,” Harry laughs.

“He’ll work it out eventually, I wouldn’t worry about it,” Ginny shrugs before snuggling next to Harry so she can use his chest as a pillow. She falls asleep soon enough, though it takes Harry a while to bring himself to close his eyes.

 

Molly is thrilled when she hears Harry invited Scorpius and his parents over for Christmas dinner and assures him there will be no objections from no-one to the Malfoys’ presence. Draco sends an owl to Harry a few days later confirming their attendance.

When the Malfoys show up at the Burrow on Christmas, Albus darts to the front door like a cannonball. Harry and Ginny merely exchange amused glances and barely react when their son and Scorpius embrace on a hug that prevents Draco and Astoria from walking past the threshold.

“I’d invite you in, but …” Harry says from the living room couch and the Malfoys chuckle in understanding.

“Albus, hon, let Scorpius’ parents come in,” Ginny says politely, but Harry detects in her eyes a hint of amusement.

“Oh, right,” Albus says disentangling himself from his best mate, “I’m sorry, come in, good evening Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy.”

 

Harry is pleased to see there is no fuss over their new guests. By now everyone’s used to Scorpius presence as an honorary Weasley, like Harry himself was many years ago, and happily, everyone makes sure Draco and Astoria also feel included. After returning from Japan, Harry and Draco have struck a tentative relationship, which Harry wouldn’t go as far as to call friendship, but it’s cordial and amicable, and Astoria’s openness and candour is instantly well received. Also, Draco and Teddy look delighted to see each other, which Harry knows is a new development.

During dinner, Harry can barely take his eyes off his son, watching his every interaction with Scorpius. Albus engages in conversation with everyone at the table, but whenever he speaks to his best mate his eyes light up. A kick under the table from Ginny lets him know he’s been observing the pair for too long.

They exchange presents and Molly hands Scorpius his very first Weasley jumper, which instead of being bottle green with a light grey A on it, like Albus’, it’s light grey with a bottle green S. When both friends wear them together, Albus beams.

A knock on the door distracts Harry from watching his son, but he still doesn’t miss the affectionate way he wraps Scorpius in a one-armed hug when George tells them to smile for a photograph.

“I’ll get it,” Harry says and heads to the front door, where he finds his boss, Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt standing with a serious expression on his face.

“Kingsley!” Harry exclaims surprised, “hey, come in.”

“I won’t be long,” Kingsley says, “I hate interrupting Christmas dinner with your family like this.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Harry assures him as he steps outside and closes the door behind him, “what is it?”

“I think you might be onto something about the Department of Mysteries,” Kingsley says.

“What happened?”

“Well, it did strike me as odd that Ketteridge kept cancelling every appointment you tried to set up with him, so I decided to pay him a visit,” Kingsley explains.

“Anything astray?” Harry asks.

“You could say so, yes,” Kingsley confirms, “he was most surprised to see me, even more so when I mentioned you had been trying to get in touch with him.”

“He didn’t know I’ve been trying to get him to receive me for months now,” Harry deadpans.

“At first I though he was lying, but then the conversation steered to that Unspeakable that we arrested last year, Kenneth Scarrwener, the one that hit you with a curse in Diagon Alley.”

“The one that made me want to look into that department in the first place,” Harry adds.

“He had no idea of what I was talking about,” Kingsley says.

“I’m not sure I follow,” Harry replies, confused.

“He had no idea of who Kenneth Scarrwener was. And after asking a couple more questions I realised he had no idea of a lot of things.”

“What are you saying?” Harry asks.

“He’s been obliviated,” Kingsley explains, “he showed signs of having been affected by several memory charms, and good ones too, as the gaps in his memory seemed to be quite deliberate.”

“So an Unspeakable does something so wrong he actually has to escape from the Ministry, and now the Head of the Department of Mysteries doesn’t even remember the bloke existed?”

“That’s right,” Kingsley confirms.

“What do you suggest we do?” Harry asks, to which Kingsley lets out a despaired sigh.

“I can’t believe what I’m about to suggest,” he says.

“You want me to investigate the Department, without them finding out.”

“I am aware of what I’m asking from you, investigating the Department of Mysteries —”

“It has to be done very carefully,” Harry finishes.

“We know something’s not right. An Unspeakable desperate enough to escape he risked cursing the Head of the Auror Office, Ketteridge blowing you off for months before having his memory erased. Something is going on. Something is not right.”

“No, it’s not,” Harry agrees, “I’ll look into it.”

“Here, take this,” Kingsley says as he offers him a square silver badge, much like the ones given to visitors at the Ministry, only this one is completely blank, “it’s an all-access badge to the Ministry, which only I can hand out. Use it to get where you need.”

Harry takes the badge from Kingsley and examines it before tucking it inside his trousers pocket.

“Don’t let anyone know what you’re doing, this can’t leak out,” Kingsley warns him.

“I know, I won’t, don’t worry about it.”

At that moment the front door opens behind Harry to reveal a surprised Molly Weasley on the other side.

“Minister Shacklebolt!” Molly exclaims, “What a surprise! Come on in, don’t just stand there.”

“I’m afraid I was just leaving, I’ve kept Harry from his family for too long now. But thank you, Molly, and Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Minister,” Molly replies.

“Goodbye, Kingsley,” Harry says, and a second later Kingsley had already disapparated.

“What was all that about?” Molly asks.

“Just work stuff, don’t worry about it,” Harry assures her.

 

On Boxing Day, the Potters pay their annual visit to the Dursleys, only this time it’s a lot less uncomfortable for everyone involved, as the Dursleys know about magic now, and the Potters don’t have to pretend anymore, which Harry knows always took a toll on Ginny and the kids.

This time James, Albus and Lily socialise a lot more easily with Donovan and Brittany, and Dudley and Jennifer are eager to pour on somebody their questions and concerns regarding their son going to Hogwarts.

“Astronomy’s alright, though I’m a bit disappointed wizards don’t seem to care about sending things to space. The rest of my classes are great,” Donovan tells Harry when they all sit at the table for breakfast.

“Donovan just got top marks in his most recent Potions assignment,” Jennifer comments, “though I still don’t know what use could someone find for a Forgetfulness Potion.”

“Most potions taught to first-years are mostly meant to familiarise them with potion brewing, they’re very simple to make,” Harry explains.

“And he keeps bragging about performing a Full Body-Bind Curse right,” Brittany says, “whatever that means.”

“That’s for paralysing your opponent in a duel,” Lily tells her, which prompts James to tell the Dursleys all about Duelling Club, even though he rarely ever attends, given it usually clashes with Quidditch practice.

Though this time the visit is easier for his children, Harry notices that’s not the case for his cousin and his wife, as every word that comes out of James, Albus or Lily’s mouths convinces them they sent their son to a medieval looney bin.

“At least he doesn’t like Quidditch,” Dudley tells Harry when everyone else retreats to the Dursley’s living room and both cousins take the dirty dishes to the kitchen.

“I swear Hogwarts is not as dangerous as it sounds, and it’s good for Donnie,” Harry tells him.

“I am trying to believe that, I really am,” Dudley says.

Harry figures it’s best not to pressure his cousin, he will come to terms with his son’s magic at his own pace, and he’s not prohibiting Donovan from doing magic or talking about it, nor is he treating him like Vernon Dursley treated Harry, which makes things alright for the time being.

 

A few days before the break is over, Harry can’t stop thinking about the dangerous request Kingsley made on Christmas Eve. Ever since he got hit by a poorly performed _Sectumsempra_  the year before, Harry’s office has tried hard to get to the bottom of what exactly was Kenneth Scarrwener doing that made him flee from the Ministry in such fashion, but the Department of Mysteries has blocked their every attempt to find answers.

In Harry’s mind, that could only mean one thing: the Department of Mysteries engaged in a potentially dangerous line of research, which fell into the wrong Unspeakable’s hands, and then the Department tried hard to cover it up. But if Kingsley’s right and the Head of Department has been obliviated, the situation just got more alarming.

On the other hand, this assignment is forcing Harry to face feelings and memories he tries very hard not to dwell on. Ever since the night he lost Sirius to that place, the Department has always inspired in him some sort of revulsion. He knows most people would love to see first-hand what goes on at the Department of Mysteries, and he’s aware of the fascinating nature of all the different subjects researched there, from love to death to time and space and the future, human mind too. But to Harry, that place only means the death of his godfather, and he’s never harboured any intention to go back there again.

That doesn’t change the fact that his gut is telling him something bigger than he realises is going on, and he’s always trusted his gut.

Exhausted of his mind going in circles, Harry decides to quit thinking about it for the rest of the break and resolves to get a midnight snack before going to bed, so he lifts off his chair and leaves his study to head to the kitchen, where he finds his daughter Lily immersed in reading a leaflet.

“What’s up, Lils? What keeps you up at night?” Harry asks his daughter.

“I’m just reading about next year’s electives. I’m still not sure which ones to pick. I am really interested in Runes and Arithmancy, but everyone says Care of Magical Creatures is the class to take. I don’t wanna feel like I missed out on a major Hogwarts experience,” Lily tells her father.

“Well, you can always take all three, like your aunt Hermione did,” Harry reminds her.

“But she had a time-turner,” Lily points out.

“That was when she was also taking Divination and Muggle Studies, back when it was an elective, but she dropped out of those and continued with the other three, no time-turner necessary, though she did drop Care of Magical Creatures after she took her O.W.L.s,” Harry explains.

“I’ll think about it, I really don’t want to leave Hogwarts without riding a hippogriff,” Lily says, “and I still haven’t ruled out Divination, the Scamander twins sound very excited to take it, and there’s word that Professor Trelawney is retiring, so with only Firenze in charge, it does look like a viable option.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you still have a few months to decide, it’s only Christmas break,” Harry offers.

“Yeah, I’ve still got time,” Lily agrees.

Harry doesn’t worry much about Lily’s dilemma. Out of all his kids, Lily is the most self-sufficient, and the best at decision making. Given the time to analyse her options, she always makes the right choice in the end.

 

Harry plans his incursion to the Department of Mysteries for the end of the first week after he’s back to work. He casually mentions to Ginny he’ll have a lot of paperwork to fill in that night, and that she probably shouldn’t expect him for dinner.

He pretends to be busy with paperwork as one by one all of his Aurors leave for home, dropping by his office to say goodbye.

“Long night tonight, chief?” an Auror asks Harry from the entrance to his office.

“Long night,” Harry confirms, “I’m just a bit behind in some paperwork, best not to let it rack up.”

“Best not. See you on Monday, chief.”

“See you on Monday, Joseph,” Harry says as the Auror leaves.

Harry busies himself actually catching up on paperwork until there is nothing else left for him to do. The clock on his desk tells him is five minutes after nine o’clock. Harry still waits five more minutes before leaving his chair. He paces around the Auror Office, turning off lights and pushing in chairs that are out of place, mentally going over his plan to make sure there will be no mistakes.

Unspeakables are usually the last to leave the Ministry, more often than not caught up in whatever they are researching until they lose track of time. Still, ten past nine is a pretty safe time for assuming the Department will be empty, specially on a Friday night.

On his first and only visit to the Department of Mysteries, the trip there had been pretty straightforward. The Death Eaters were waiting for him to pick up the prophecy about him and Voldemort had disposed of the security personnel working that night; Harry merely had to open the door to any room in the Department to gain access to it. This time, though, doors won’t be already unlocked for his benefit, but he’s got Kingsley’s badge with him.

Once he locks up his office, Harry heads to the golden gates to the lifts, careful to any sound that might give away somebody else’s presence. He presses the down button. The only sound he can hear is the lift clattering into sight and the golden grilles sliding apart to let him in. Once inside, he presses the nine button, the grilles closing are once again the only noise around. After a short rattling descent, a cool female voice announces his arrival to the Department of Mysteries and the grilles slide open to reveal the corridor that leads to his final destination.

Harry approaches the plain black door that marks the entrance of the Department of Mysteries, which this time doesn’t swing open for him, but Harry fishes the square silver all-access badge from his robes and presses it on the door. The door opens and lets him into the circular room that no matter how many years go by will never stop looking familiar. Harry’s had nightmares about this place long before and long after he stepped on it for the first time.

Twelve identical handle-less doors await around the black walls of the room, interspersed with branches of blue-flamed candles, and the second Harry closes the door from which he came from, a great rumbling noise and the candles moving sideways let him know the circular wall is rotating.

Once the movement stops, Harry goes for the door immediately to his left. It’s locked. He tries again with the badge and the door opens for him. One peek inside and he instantly knows where it leads to. Hundreds of clocks, all shape and sizes, cover every surface, and a towering crystal bell jar stands at the far end of the room. It’s the Time Room, and he knows the door on the other side will take him to the Hall of Prophecies. He refrains from walking in and closes the door, not before marking the door for future reference.

“ _Flagrate_!” Harry exclaims and writes with his wand the word _TIME_ in fiery letters, just in time for the circular wall to rotate again.

“Alright, next door,” Harry mutters.

The next room is small and dark, apparently a perfect square. There is a door on each wall and the place is lit only with the light coming from a colossal cauldron burning in the middle. The cauldron is set on some kind of large grill, red fire burning from a cavity on the floor. Harry approaches the cauldron and the whiff of treacle tart reaches his nose. If he concentrates, he can also discern the woody smell of a broomstick handle and a scent by now he knows by heart. It smells like hair-conditioning potion combined with something else entirely. It’s the flowery scent of Ginny’s hair.

“Amortentia,” Harry exhales in awe. He must be in the room Dumbledore told him about, the Love Room, which only a chosen few Unspeakables and apparently the Minister can enter. He looks in awe around the room before shaking his head and heading back to the exit.

“ _Flagrate_!” he says as the door closes, writing the word _LOVE_ across the black surface.

The next room is so normal it stands out from the rest of them. It’s filled with file cabinets, and looks not unlike the room where they store cold cases’ files at the Auror Office. After examining a couple of them he realises this is where the Department keeps all the information on their employees. Harry rummages through the cabinets until he finds the name he’s looking for: Kenneth Scarrwener. He opens his folder and sure enough, he recognises the hardened features and ashy skin on the small moving photograph that accompanies the file.

“Kenneth Scarrwener … 54”, Harry reads, “in charge of oneiric research … assigned projects: Icelus Project.”

The rest of his file contains background information, as well as reports on past projects. Skimming through it, Harry realises most of his work was done at the Brain Room. Harry shudders at the memory of Ron being attacked by a brain that had been floating inside a glass tank filled with deep-green water. He closes the file and points his wand at it.

“ _Geminio_!”

An exact copy of the file materialises above the original, which Harry stores back inside the cabinet and keeps the copy for himself, tucked under his robes, before exiting the room.

He finds the Brain Room on his next try. Low-hanging lamps on golden chains illuminate the place, a stark contrast with the darkness of the Entrance Chamber. The room is long and rectangular, empty save for a few desks and the gigantic glass tank where several pearly white brains languidly drift around submerged in the green fluid.

“This is it,” Harry mutters to himself.

There are other doors in the room. Some, Harry knows lead to a chamber filled with large scale models of the planets in the Solar System, or to a large stone pit that resembles an amphitheatre, on which he hopes never to set foot again. But some of the other doors remained unexplored during his previous visit.

Harry looks around the room. The desks are mostly empty, he searches through the drawers but finds nothing aside from spare parchment and broken quills. There’s nothing left in the room left to examine, save for the brains floating inside the tank, and he knows better than to try to touch them.

He heads to a door he knows won’t take him to the Planet Room nor to the Death Chamber. The place looks like Hogwarts’ Potions classroom in the dungeons: several large wooden tables are scattered across the room, with cauldrons and other potions equipment on them. The walls are lined with glass jars in which a variety of ingredients float. On the far end of the room stands a cabinet with diamond-paned glass doors, filled with many different crystal phials.

The cabinet has two wooden drawers on its lower side, Harry opens one of them and finds several folders, and upon further inspection he realises their contents detail the specifics of the potions stored inside the crystal phials. He browses through the files until he finds one labelled “Icelus”. Harry stuffs the file under his robes and opens the cabinet’s glass doors to look for a potion with a similar label. And sure enough, on the top row, at the rightmost corner, a crystal phial bears the word Icelus on its label.

Harry snatches the phial and keeps it inside his trousers’ pocket, before heading out of the room. Whatever Icelus Project is supposed to be, he can find out in the safety of his home, or his office, anywhere but there. He makes it back to the Brain Room and approaches the door that leads to the entrance chamber, but a sudden movement makes Harry’s heart jump. The doorknob is turning, someone is about to walk in through the very door he was intending to exit through.

Harry bolts to the nearest door to his right, and finds himself inside a small room with white walls, floor and ceiling, completely barren and brightly lit, though Harry can’t find the light source. Harry tries to listen for any sounds outside, but he can’t make out anything. All of a sudden the lights go off and he’s immersed in the most inscrutable darkness.

Sure that there is somebody outside the door, Harry decides against casting a Wand-Lighting Charm, and tries to breathe very quietly. A sudden movement makes Harry bump his head with the ceiling, which strikes him as odd. He remembered the ceiling to be further up, but Harry has to crouch down to keep himself from touching it. Something brushes his nose and he realises it’s a small chain. Instinctively, Harry pulls from it and a light bulb above him goes on. Weird, Harry’s never seen an electric light bulb in any Ministry premise. But when he looks around he realises he’s no longer in the white, barren room, he’s back inside his uncle’s cupboard.

Alarmed, Harry finds it very hard to breathe. He looks around and sees the cupboard is empty, save for a couple of spiders lounging placidly on a wall. Harry tries to open the door, all thoughts of keeping hidden now forgotten, but the door won’t open. Uncle Vernon must’ve put a padlock on it like he usually does whenever Harry misbehaves particularly badly, but Harry can’t remember what he did this time. Harry dashes to one of the floorboards and removes it to get to his food stash. It’s empty. Somehow he went through all the food he hoarded and there’s no telling when he’ll be let out again. Harry can’t even remember when was the last time he ate.

Harry sinks down on the floor and presses his head against the wall, trying to breathe. Surely he won’t be there for long. His uncle will open the door at some point and let him out, and maybe then he could sneak out to Mrs. Figg’s and she’ll feed him some cabbage soup.

A sudden noise snaps Harry’s attention. It’s an unpleasant noise, like wheels grinding against each other, or like a rusty sliding door opening. With horror, Harry realises it’s the walls closing on him. The roof is getting lower as well. Harry curls on himself in panic. He’s going to die crushed, he thinks as he struggles to get some air into his lungs.

All of a sudden the door opens and everything is bright and white again. Harry looks around from his crouched position on the floor and sees he’s back at the white, barren room. The door is open and Minister Shacklebolt stands on the other side.

“Harry, are you okay?” Kingsley asks with a calm and concerned voice. Harry looks up at him and can’t quite believe he’s not back at his uncle’s house, trapped inside the cupboard.

“I — I think I am,” Harry stammers as he struggles to get back on his feet, Kingsley helps him.

“Come on, let’s get you out of here,” Kingsley says as he pulls Harry out of the white room, “did you find anything?”

Harry is still struggling to catch his breath, he can feel cold drops of sweat navigating his forehead and his hands are still shaky as they pull out the file on Icelus Project.

“Scarrwener was working on this before he was arrested,” Harry pants.

“This looks like a potion,” Kingsley says, flipping through the file, and Harry fishes the crystal phial from his pocket.

“It’s this,” Harry says as he places the phial on Kingsley’s hand. He blinks a few times, images of being trapped inside the cupboard dancing before his eyelids.

“I’ll have this examined,” Kingsley says, “come on, let’s get out of this place.”

Kingsley leads Harry out of the Brain Room, back inside the Entrance Chamber and out to the corridor that leads to the lift, then stops and places a firm hand on Harry’s shoulder.

“Are you okay?” he asks, concerned.

“I am now,” Harry states, more to convince himself than anything else.

“What happened in that room?”

“I saw — I was back in — never mind,” Harry stutters. Kingsley raises an eyebrow but doesn’t press the subject.

“Come on,” he says and points with his head to the elevator, “it’s best if you get home.”

Harry follows, feeling a bit frustrated. If the Minister was going to show up, why task Harry with this assignment in the first place? He wants to yell at Kingsley for it, but is just too exhausted to do so. His head hurts, and the feeling of wrongness that has taken over him since he stepped into the white room is still firmly seated in his gut.

Kingsley calls the lift, and the clattering sound it makes is like a drill on Harry’s head.

“You look exhausted,” Kingsley notes.

“I am,” Harry replies and Kingsley pats him on the shoulder. That’s when he sees it. The movement of Kingsley’s robes revealed the handle of his wand on his pocket. That wand is not Kingsley’s. The wood is very light, it looks like fir to Harry, but he can’t be sure. He is sure, however, that Kingsley’s wand is darker and reddish. Harry wastes no time taking his own wand out and pointing it at the man before him.

“Who are you?” Harry asks as the lift arrives and its golden grilles slide open.

“Harry, what are you doing?” Kingsley asks alarmed.

“That’s not Kingsley’s wand, who are you? STEP AWAY FROM THE LIFT!” Harry roars. The other man has his wand out in an instant, his features twisted in a wicked grin Harry’s never seen Kingsley Shacklebolt sport.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” the man spits before raising his wand, “ _Sectumsempra_!”

Harry ducks just in time.

“ _Depulso_!” Harry shouts as he blasts the man away from the lift. Even in his weakened state, and with the adrenaline rushing through his veins, he’s got enough presence of mind to realise who the impostor is. “Scarrwener,” he mutters.

“Got there at last, did you?” Scarrwener mocks as he painstakingly gets back on his feet.

“You’re still sloppy casting that curse,” Harry tells him as he approaches the man with caution.

“Well, there’s no instruction book on how to use it, is it? A man has to experiment. _Sectumsempra_!”

“ _Protego_!” Harry yells, producing a shield between the incoming curse and him.

“How did you get in here? You were arrested,” Harry asks.

“I have my ways,” Scarrwener says, “and I’ve got what I wanted now.”

Harry realises the mistake he made in his distress after being rescued from the white room. He handed over the file on Icelus Project and the potion to Scarrwener thinking he was Kingsley.

“After I was arrested certain security measures were taken. I couldn’t take the potion by myself, so I had to have someone else do it,” Scarrwener brags, “Obliviating Ketteridge was a sure-fire way to make the Minster have you investigating this, all I had to do was wait.”

Scarrwener casts a silent curse at Harry, apparently giving up on experimenting with _Sectumsempra_. Harry dodges it and casts his own spells, trying to stun the runaway Unspeakable.

The heat of the duel makes both men circle each other in the narrow corridor, and Scarrwener finds himself once again with a clear way to the lift.

“Goodbye, Potter,” he smiles mockingly at Harry, “ _Depulso_!”

Harry is thrown backwards towards the entrance to the Department of Mysteries, and Scarrwener bolts towards the lift. However, something stops him.

Before Harry can get up, Scarrwener is blasted his way with so much force his back crashes against the black door to the Entrance Chamber. Harry is instantly on his feet pointing his wand at the man. The sound of footsteps makes him turn around and he makes out the silhouette of a woman walking towards them. It’s Ginny Potter.

“G — Ginny?” Harry asks. Ginny is approaching them with her wand raised and pointed at Scarrwener, her hand deadly steady, even if her face is one of confusion.

“Minister?” she asks doubtfully.

“That’s not Kingsley,” Harry tells her as Scarrwener rubs the back of his head and groans in pain. “That’s Kenneth Scarrwener, the Unspeakable I was chasing in Diagon Alley last year, remember?”

“The one that used _Sectumsempra_ on you?” Ginny asks, her eyes filled with fury now, and approaches the Unspeakable until her wand is poking his chest.

“That’s the one,” Harry confirms, “we sent him to Azkaban that night, but seems to have escaped. We’ll have to be more careful this time.”

At that moment Scarrwener starts laughing, his shoulders rising and falling as he does so.

“What’s so funny?” Ginny asks.

“This time?” Scarrwener laughs.

A cracking is heard and suddenly Scarrwener is no longer between his captors and the door. It takes him a second, but Harry finally sees the man has transformed into a bat. An Animagus. The bat dashes towards the lift, Harry and Ginny hot on his trail, casting curses and jinxes at him, but they all miss their mark. Scarrwener reaches the lift shaft and disappears before Harry and Ginny’ can get to him.

“He’s gone,” Harry exhales frustrated.

“What was he even doing here? What were you doing down here?” Ginny asks.

“Shacklebolt asked me to, there’s something going on at the Department of Mysteries,” Harry explains.

“That much is clear,” Ginny huffs.

“How did you know I was here?” Harry asks and, surprisingly, Ginny laughs.

“Scorpius’ birthday gift to you,” she explains, “your hand on the clock said ‘In mortal peril, for real this time’.” Harry bursts out laughing.

“I’m pretty sure the boy meant it as a gag gift,” he wheezes.

“And I’m pretty sure he still knew we would find it useful someday,” Ginny points out, also amused, but mostly relieved that Harry’s alright now. “Let’s go home now,” she says. Harry had never heard sweeter words.

 

Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt, the real Minister, pays the Potters a visit later that night.

“I just came back from Azkaban,” he explains to them after they all sit around the kitchen table, the three of them nursing a hot cup of tea, “and I spoke to the Aurors assigned with taking Scarrwener in.”

“And?” Harry asks.

“None of them seemed to remember who Scarrwener was, and the records show no mention of him, meaning he never made it to Azkaban.”

“They were obliviated, just like Ketteridge,” Harry says alarmed.

“Which means this is bigger than we originally realised. Scarrwener’s wand was taken from him upon arrest, meaning someone must’ve had obliviated the Aurors on their way to Azkaban and freed him.”

“What’s going on in that department?” Ginny asks.

“He was working on a project called Icelus,” Harry says, pulling out the file on Scarrwener he replicated, “it says here he was in charge of oneiric research, and the project itself seemed to be some kind of potion, but I’ve got no idea of what it’s supposed to do, Scarrwener took all the research and the potion with him.”

“Whatever it was, it’s enough to warrant breaking into the Ministry to steal it, and erase the memory of the Head of Department,” Kingsley assesses.

“And big enough that Ketteridge tried to cover the whole thing up before his memory was erased,” Harry adds.

“He’d been probably waiting inside the Ministry for someone to get to that potion, maybe as a bat this whole time,” Ginny points out.

“First Skeeter now this, I’m starting to think there are way more Animagi running about than we think,” Kingsley muses.

“So what now?” Ginny asks.

“Now we clean up this mess. But there’s nothing we can’t do right now. I’ll see you Monday morning in my office, Harry,” Kingsley says as he lifts from his chair, “you two rest now, it’s been a long night.”

Harry and Ginny walk Kingsley to the door, and once he’s gone, Harry embraces Ginny between his arms.

“I don’t like this,” Ginny tells Harry.

“Neither do I, but we’ll deal with it, we always do,” Harry reassures her, “you were great tonight, by the way,” he adds, making Ginny smile.

“I don’t like it when they curse my husband,” she says, “only I can roughen you up.”

“Care to roughen me up now?” Harry asks, making Ginny look up at him with a raised eyebrow, but after a beat she breaks out a wide grin.

“I’ll show you mortal peril alright,” she says. Harry laughs as he follows Ginny up the stairs.

 

The Auror Office makes no breakthroughs regarding the Scarrwener case. Mainly because Harry has only two of his closest Aurors working on it. Early on, Kingsley and him decided it was best to keep the investigation close to their chests until they knew how big the problem really was. So far, they’ve only managed to hit wall after wall, and the Ministry’s only concrete action has been replacing Milton Ketteridge as Head of the Department of Mysteries after the old man reckons the gaps in his memory are more than enough reason to retire.

The months fly by, other pressing cases demand the Aurors’ attention and before Harry knows it, it’s time to go pick his children up at King’s Cross. This year the party gathered at platform nine and three-quarters is unusually large: along with Harry and Ginny, Ron and Hermione await the arrival of the Hogwarts Express, and are soon joined by Draco and Astoria Malfoy, and shortly after by Dudley, Jennifer and Brittany Dursley. Bill and Fleur are there too, and so are George and Angelina. Not long after that Luna and Rolf Scamander show up too.

If someone had told Harry four years ago that he’d be at the platform waiting for his kids and making small talk with the Malfoys and the Dursleys, and furthermore, if someone had told him Ron and Draco would be chatting politely, as well as George and Dudley, Harry would’ve laughed. Now, though…

Roxanne Weasley is the first of the clan out of the train once the Hogwarts Express arrives, with the same look of relief every Hogwarts graduate has after the N. E. W. T.s are over. Next is Donovan Dursley, happily chatting with the Scamander twins, all Ravenclaws, Harry remembers. Dominique is next with her Quidditch teammates, and shortly after Lily and Hugo say goodbye to their respective friends so they can walk together to meet their families. James, for his part, takes a bit longer parting from his loud group of Gryffindors.

Finally, Albus, Rose, Louis and Scorpius come out. Albus is ruffling Scorpius’ hair and the other boy is smiling, though not as brightly as he usually does. Harry remembers the last few letters from Al that detail how Slytherin lost every single match of the season and ended at the bottom of the tournament. Albus seems to be doing his best to cheer his mate up.

When they reach their parents, Harry can see how much his son has changed over the past year. He’s taller than Harry was at fifteen, and has even put on some muscle. Harry wonders if it’s the Weasley genes or if that’s the height he would have reached had his aunt and uncle not starved him during the key years of his growth.

Unlike Harry at that age, his son looks happy and unburdened, also a bit wild. His messy black hair is long, longer than Harry’s ever wore it, with bangs falling over his emerald eyes and most of it haphazardly tied back in a short ponytail. It reminds Harry a bit of Bill Weasley.

The resemblance between father and son is still there, but Albus looks so uniquely him now, Harry is taken a back for a moment, but then decides he couldn’t feel happier about it.

“Hey, dad,” Albus greets him with a toothy grin.

“Hey, Al,” Harry greets back.

It takes everyone a while to say goodbye to everyone else, their group being one of the largest at the platform. The Dursleys are the first to leave, with Dudley giving Harry’s shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“It was good seeing you,” Dudley says.

“You too,” Harry replies, “see you in September.”

“You have to visit us before that, you should come with us when it’s time to get Brittany’s books and stuff,” Dudley tells him.

“Has her letter arrived?” Harry asks.

“Not yet, but it will,” Dudley shrugs, “I’m not turning a blind eye anymore.”

“I’m happy to hear that,” Harry says, “and I’ll be seeing you during the hols, then,” he adds with a smile, thinking that’s the first time he can sincerely say he’s looking forward to it.

The Malfoys leave after the Dursleys. Harry can tell Albus is reluctant to let Scorpius go and when he does, he stares longingly at the barrier as his friend disappears through it. Harry can feel Ginny’s hand on his shoulder.

“He’ll figure it out,” she whispers to him, “just give him time.”

And Harry has to agree. His son is a Potter, after all: fast on a broom, but at working out his own feelings, not so much. But Potters do get it right in the end, the warm hand on his shoulder is enough proof of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not gonna promise a quick update, but I do promise to do my best. I hope you liked this chapter.
> 
> Now, if you want to read more about Dudley's Dursleys adventures as the father of a young wizard, you can go and read a spin-off I wrote of this story: [_The Apples Fall Far on the Other Side of the Fence_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9835259/chapters/22078223). The first three chapters are already up, I hope you like them.
> 
> And finally, if you're wondering how Gonçalo Flores looks like, it's something like [this](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/blackcanine/29094293/2664/2664_original.jpg) (somewhat NSFW). The man in the picture is actually Iwo Bartosz Kitzinger, a Polish basketball player with a few photoshopped edits. :P

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you are enjoying this so far. All comments and feedback are greatly appreciated. :)


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